Finding Family
by thoughtyouknewr
Summary: The Winchesters are taken by surprise one day when their grandfather and uncle almost break down the door to their house. What happens when John's family learns that their youngest son isn't actually dead? What happens when one face is familiar? Sam 16
1. Chapter 1 An Uncle and a Father

**I don't own supernatural. The same goes for the rest of the story, just in case I forget.**

**WARNINGS! Probably a bit of swearing, because let's face it; they're Winchesters. AUness. A little OOCness. Major cuddling, because I just can't resist. **

**We never really knew exactly what the Winchesters were like when they were younger, so don't think I'm really exaggerating all that much. **

**FYI: Sam is small because I made him small for this story. At fourteen he was _tiny_. I figure he would actually hit his growth spurt around fifteen, but for the sake of this story he doesn't. For this story, he's still small because he didn't really get all that much food when he was younger. John left Sam and Dean alone for weeks as kids with no means of earning money; they had to have gone hungry sometimes. When Sam gets a good amount of food (aka when he's at Stanford) he'll grow, but he starts out small. There's another reason for that too, but it's included in the story, so if you read you'll find it. **

Chapter 1 An Uncle and A Father

It had started out as a normal day. Sam was arguing with their father about the best way to salt the doors and windows, of all things. Dean was ignoring them in favor of the much more important task of staring to unpack in their latest home.

It was in the middle of Sam's statement that it would be better to put liquid cement on the top of the door and lay salt down along there (which Dean honestly thought was a good idea because it would protect not only them, but also whoever lived here after them) that the day turned odd.

The door slammed open in a move that had everyone in the immediate vicinity diving for their weapons and coming up with a rather odd assortment of things. John had a bottle of holy water, Sam had a silver knife, and Dean had a gun filled with rock salt.

None of this seemed to matter, however, to the two men who entered through the doorway.

"Jonathan Michel Winchester, where _have_ you been?" a loud voice yelled.

Dean stared incredulously as an absolutely _huge_ man lumbered in and threw his arms around Dean's father.

"D-Danny?" John asked in a strangled voice. "Danny-can't…can't breath," his father tried again when his first question had no effect whatsoever on the bigger man.

"You deserve it you little bitch," the man that their father obviously knew growled. "Do you have any idea how worried we've been about you? We all thought you were _dead_, John, _dead_."

"That was kind of the point," John muttered distractedly as he tried to squirm away from mystery man one.

"Daniel, stop; I think you're scaring the children," mystery man two said with a frown. He had neglected to see that Dean was holding a gun, and Sam a knife.

"Oh," the man called Danny blinked. "Sorry Jonny; didn't mean to scare the rugrats."

"I highly doubt you did any lasting damage to them. Now my ribs though….that's a different story," John grumbled back, rubbing the offended area.

"That's what you get when you don't even contact your big brother for over ten years," Danny replied sharply.

"Who are they, Dad?" Dean asked, carefully keeping the gun aimed at Danny while Sam's knife was inconspicuously pointed at mystery man two.

"You can lower the gun now Dean," John replied dryly. "Knives aren't necessary either Sammy. This is my father," he pointed to mystery man two, "and my older brother; your Uncle Danny," he finished, gesturing at Danny.

"You have a brother?" Sam asked as he reluctantly lowered his knife. Dean seemed even less keen on putting down his gun.

"How do we know it's really then?" he asked suspiciously. "Why are they suddenly showing up now after sixteen years.

"We live here," his grandfather informed him. "Danny's wife works in the school administration, so when you went to sign your brother up she mentioned you to us."

"You got married?" John asked curiously.

"Got hitched with Misty a little while after you disappeared. Spent around eight months lookin' for you, but after that Mom made me stay home and try to settle down. It was either Misty, or Eloise. You know how I always hated Eloise," Danny shuddered.

"So Misty and I had a marriage of friendship. We eventually started loving each other and now we're happily married and settled with three kids."

"Wow." John whistled, clearly impressed. "You got the apple pie life. I didn't think that was possible for a Winchester."

"Apple pie life?" his father asked.

"Yeah, y'know; wife, kids, a house that you actually live in for longer then a month, the works," John smirked.

"You got some explaining to do, boy. Right now though you can re-introduce me to my grandchildren." The oldest Winchester's voice had started out stern, but faded to soft eagerness during the last sentence. Danny looked up from his study of his youngest brother with interest at that request.

"Well, this is Dean. I'm sure you remember your uncle and grandfather, Dean?" John asked as he put a hand on his oldest son's shoulder. "And for Lords sakes will you _please_ put down the gun!" he added with exasperation as he caught sight of the still ready for use weapon in Dean's hands.

Dean eyed his relatives distrustfully for a second, then grabbed the holy water from John. With no regard to his father's attempts to stop him or his uncle and grandfather's personal feelings, he threw holy water all over the two of them. When that failed to have any effect he grabbed salt out of his pockets and threw that too. After that Sam (who had been subtly creeping up behind the two men) nicked them with the silver knife.

"We're good," he called to his big brother.

"Right then," Dean said, holding his hand out to his still spluttering family. "Names Dean." He finally put down his gun.

"Satisfied now?" John asked dryly.

"Completely," Dean answered happily. John rolled his eyes.

"You know you could've done that a lot better if you hadn't just done it straight to their faces?" Sam asked. "You would have an advantage because they wouldn't know that you knew that they weren't really them."

"That was so confusing that I don't even want to think about it Sammy," Dean said with and eye roll.

"What was that?" Danny asked warily.

"You don't have to worry; I'm not going to chuck anything else at you," Dean gave an evil grin. "…Or am I?"

"No, you are not," John answered firmly.

"Aw common Dad; you just ruined my ability to keep them in suspense, never knowing if I was actually going to do anything or not," Dean complained in a tone close to a whine.

"Don't whine, Dean. You're twenty years old now, not two," John instructed distractedly.

Dean pouted.

"Well that was certainly…interesting," Danny seemed to choose his words carefully.

"Dean has trust issues," John supplied.

"And paranoia issues," Sam piped in.

"I do not," Dean protested, looking affronted.

"Dean, the last time we went grocery shopping the woman tried to hand you back your change and you nearly broke her arm," John reminded him.

"Well how was I supposed to know she wasn't trying to drug me?" Dean asked.

They had been in the middle of a particularly difficult hunt at the time with a monster who poisoned people by touching them. It was a valid concern. Dean had been deep in his thoughts when he saw a hand coming towards him, and he panicked.

His father and baby brother simply rolled their eyes and chose not to respond.

"And this is Sam," John finished, resting his hand on top of Sam's curly head. His little boy was still unbelievably short. He had thought Sam would hit a growth spurt sometime soon, but it seemed his baby was determined to stay small.

"Oh my God he's adorable!" Danny practically squealed as he turned his attention on his youngest nephew for the first time. Sammy just gave him the urge to pick him and cuddle. This was not an urge he was used to resisting around his own children, so he simply acted on impulse and swept his youngest nephew into his arms. He wasn't even thinking about how the kid had to be at least fifteen now.

Indeed, especially if the squeal Sam gave when he was suddenly lifted into the air was anything to go on, he would've said the boy was around eight or nine at the most.

Sam looked around with pathetic confusion written all over his face, and it just made him look even younger.

"I told you Sam was cute," Dean smugly told their father. "He made a Winchester squeal. And it wasn't me this time!"

Sam went bright red.

"Dean, he's sixteen. I'm not using the 'I have a cute little son who needs his daddy' card anymore," John answered with rolled eyes.

"Why not? It would work instantly. All Sammy would have to do was stand there and give them some puppy dog eyes," Dean argued.

"He's sixteen?" Danny asked with much surprise.

"You need to eat more Kid," he said, turning his attention back to Sam.

The boy was fidgeting uncomfortably in his arms like he wasn't used to being held. But Danny knew that couldn't be right, because that wasn't how Winchesters rolled.

Quiet honestly he would have absolutely no reservation about plunking _John _down on his lap, even now that his brother was an adult. John was the baby of the family. He was the one everyone always cooed over and held. That didn't change, no matter how old they got. Now that had been passed on to Sammy.

Their family had been that way for as long a Danny could remember, and it wasn't about it change anytime soon. Danny really hoped Sam didn't mind being babied and protected.

It would've been his youngest boy, Brian, who was the family baby, but the Winchester chain of age was complicated.

In their family, John was the youngest. Any children that Danny had would be counted as older because they were children of the older brother. Any children John had would be counted as younger because they were children of the youngest son. The ages of the children didn't really matter at all.

"Stop squirming kiddo," he instructed. "You act like you've never been held before."

"Um…" Sam cast a helpless look at his father and brother.

"Good luck," Dean said instantly. "I remember when _I _was the youngest; you're going to be lucky if he puts you down at all after this." He shuddered for effect.

"But I can walk," Sam protested, sounding puzzled.

"Not the point," his grandfather told him, running a hand through Sam's hair. "You're the youngest; you're going to get coddled and picked up and carried around. That's just the way we roll. Especially since you're so small."

Sam's confusion was nearly palpable, but for now it would go ignored.

"We are going back to the family house where you _will_ be staying, and you _will_ be telling the whole family why you allowed us to believe you were dead," Hadrian Winchester then informed his son in a very stern voice. He sounded like he was scolding a young child for petulant behavior.

"But-" John started to protest.

"No arguing John. I don't care if I have to drag you there by your ear; you will be coming."

"Yes sir," John answered, defeated. It was the first time Sam had ever seen his father defeated by anything less then a strong punch to the head.

"Dean go head and pack back up what you just unpacked. Grab your brother's stuff too; you know how your uncles get," John instructed Dean.

"Yes sir," Dean answer automatically.

It only took them three minutes to be walking out the door.

Walking towards an _actual_ family dinner that didn't include Dad passed out on the couch. Sam couldn't help but wonder what was in store for them…

**So some people might think it's odd to be picking up and carrying around people, but that's kind of the way my family works.**

**When my aunt was twenty my great grandmother would still sit my aunt on her lap because my aunt was the "baby" of the family. **

**Just some back ground info.**


	2. Chapter 2 Family Dinner

**I don't own supernatural. **

**Long chapter for me; 3000 words!**

**This chapter is actually one of my least favorites in this story. I know it's long, and part of it's introductions. If you stick around till the end you'll get a surprise though!**

Chapter 2 Family Dinner

Sam was uncomfortable. His uncle refused to let him down, and he honestly had no idea what one was supposed to do when they were being held.

Was he supposed to wind his arms around his uncle's neck and lay his head on the man's shoulder like he had seen toddlers do? That was too awkward since he didn't know Danny _at _all.

Was he supposed to just sit there and hope the man didn't drop him? If Sam was dropped he would fall a long way; Danny was ever taller then Dean and his father.

He _really_ wanted down, but he didn't know the man well enough to be comfortable asking. Damn his shyness!

He didn't even understand why he was being held in the first place! Normally the only way anyone would pick him up was if he was direly injured. Well, unless they were with Caleb; _he_ didn't have any reservations about throwing Sam randomly in the air and holding Sam when he fell back to earth.

Sam was carried out, but they stopped by the door and Sam saw his uncle's eyes fasten on the impala.

"You still have that old thing?" Danny asked in amusement. Sam could feel his chest rumble when he talked, and it felt funny. "You do know you could've gotten a cheaper car that won't use so much gas and isn't a bitch when you're trying to fix it?"

"It's not mine," John answered with a grin.

"It's alright baby; he doesn't know what he's talking about. He just doesn't understand how beautiful you are. Don't let him upset you," Dean consoled his car, sending his uncle a filthy look in the process.

Danny and their grandfather both burst out laughing at that.

"He definitely takes after you, John," Danny laughed. "You know I can remember you doing the same exact thing when you first came home with that car?"

"Yeah yeah, I get it; I loved my car to the point of a bordering obsession," John answered with an eye roll. "Can I have my son back now?" he asked, holding out his arms for Sam.

"Nope," Danny laughed. "Don't trust you not to just grab him a take off again. He's riding with me while Dad's going with you."

"Fine, well let's just get this over with then," John conceded.

They all piled into the cars and were off before Sam could ask if he got a say in all of this.

"So kiddo," his uncle said, obviously trying to start a conversation. "What's up with the knife you pulled on us? I'm pretty sure that's not normal teenage behavior."

"Just like to always be protected," Sam shrugged uncomfortably, knowing full well that if he told the truth his uncle very well might reroute the car towards the nearest mental hospital.

"And your daddy just lets you and your brother carry around knives and guns?" Danny asked with concern.

Sam snorted. "Dad doesn't let us go anywhere _without_ a weapon of some kind," he answered. "I think the marines left him a bit paranoid."

"Maybe," Danny answered doubtfully.

"So…who can I expect to see at this gathering?" Sam asked, trying to change the subject as much as he was truly curious.

"It's a required on for the entire family, so everyone's gonna be there. Me, Misty, and our kids Adrian, Luna, and Brian. Then there's Calen who's the oldest of my four brothers. He married your Aunt Rose and had four kids named Violet, Darin, Hayden, and Aiden. Hayden and Aiden are twins. You Uncle Markus is second oldest of us boys. He married your Aunt Kevlyn and they had a kid named Jacklyn. Last one is Luke. He's older then me by about ten years, and he got married _years_ before I did. He's got the biggest family with his wife Evalyn and their six kids."

"Six?" Sam asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah," Uncle Danny chuckled. "Opal, Caleb, James, Liam, Aaron and little Lily. Caleb might be a little late in coming because he's never home. I don't even know what he does for a job. Hell, _Luke_ doesn't know what he does for a job."

They pulled into the driveway to a mansion at that moment. Sam stared at it with wide eyes. "Yeah, I'm guessing you daddy never changed from wanting to make his own way in the world. He always refused to admit that he was rich when he was younger; didn't want people to like him just for that. He cut off all access to any banking accounts he had after that fire. I think he did it so we couldn't track him. The whole family lives here," Daniel informed his stunned nephew.

They got out of the car (Sam managing to stay out of his uncle's grasp so as not to be picked up again) and headed towards the door.

There they encountered a problem in the form of John standing uncertainly at the door.

"Go on in, little brother," Danny urged.

"Mom's going to kill me," John said quietly and nervously. It was such a drastic change from the way John normally acted that Sam was almost tempted to throw holy water all over him.

"Hate to tell you, Jonny, but as soon as Dad gets your ass alone he gonna let you have it," Danny laughed. "Me, Luke, Calen, and Mark aren't exactly done with you either."

"Yeah, but I don't think Mom's going to wait," John said, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at Sam, and then back to Dean who as still at the impala and trying to convince his grandfather that he could carry in his and Sam's duffel bags, the weapons bag, and the medical kit by himself.

"I'm just gonna go get Dean," Sam said shiftily. "He looks like he needs help."

"From what I can see your Grandpa's got it under control," Danny said mildly as he watched the two figures.

"Yeah, but he doesn't know Dean," Sam muttered.

John suddenly looked alarmed. "You don't think he would….."

"I don't know. The last person who asked was a cop, so maybe not. Then again, this _is Dean_ we're talking about," Sam considered.

"Go get him quick. We really don't need a repeat of last time. Especially since I actually care about the other person this time," John commanded urgently.

Sam ran up to Dean. "Calm down Dude; he just wants to help," he muttered as close to his brother's ear as he could get. This wasn't very close, obviously, since he was so short, but it got the message across anyway.

Sam plucked his duffel bag from Dean's hand and grabbed the medical kit. He knew Dean didn't want him carrying the weapons bag because it was heavy and full of loaded guns, knives, and other pointy stuff that could cut off a few toes if dropped.

Their grandfather watched in what looked like concern as he and Dean walked up the path.

They reached the house and found their father taking a deep breath. He grabbed the doorknob and carefully opened the door.

"Jonathan Michel Winchester!" a shriek met their ears the second the door was fully open. "Get in here _right __**now**_."

"Anyone else get the feeling we should be running as fast as we can in the other direction?" Dean asked uneasily as they cautiously made their way into the house. Heads were peeking around random doors to inspect them, and it was making Sam very uncomfortable.

He inched closer to Dean, and his big brother threw an arm around his shoulder. Dean glared at the next person to stare at them, and they back off instantly.

"Yeah," Sam and John answered instantly.

They reached the kitchen where their father was assaulted by a small women in a pink dress and cooking apron.

"Where have you been all these years young man!" their grandmother yelled. Sam cowered behind Dean. The only person he ever dared yell at was their father. Their father was also just about the only person Sam wasn't scared of being yelled at by. He knew his father would never hurt him.

"It's been sixteen years. _Sixteen!_ John! We all thought you were dead!"

"I know. I'm sorry," John answered uncertainly. "I did have a reason, you know. I didn't just up and vanish because I wanted to," he added defensively.

"Yes, well, you can just tell your _reason_ to your big brothers later on tonight." Sam actually saw his father cringe back at the thought. "For now, go get reacquainted with your nieces and nephews."

"Yes Ma'am," John answered softly.

"And none of that Ma'am business, John. I'm your mother, not you drill sergeant," the women rebuked sharply.

John nodded, just barely stopping another 'yes ma'am' from slipping past his lips.

"Follow me little bro," Danny said as he started towards the door. "I'll take you somewhere you can dump you stuff, and then we'll go introduce you to the family."

It was then that their grandmother seemed to see Sam and Dean standing there awkwardly.

"Go on with them, you little dears," the women crooned. Sam got the feeling that the croon was more for his benefit then Dean's, but Dean bristled anyway. Sam pulled Dean away before the bigger boy could make a scene.

Their bags were soon dumped in two bedrooms. Dean insisted that Sam share a room with him. Sam didn't mind; in a house filled with so many strangers he didn't want to be alone.

As soon as they entered what Sam gathered was the family room they accosted by children. Children of all ages and looks. Some of them weren't even children anymore.

It was overwhelming, and Sam shrunk back even farther towards Dean. He had never done well with crowds, and had proved at an early age to be claustrophobic.

Dean wrapped an arm around his baby brother's shoulders and pulled the little boy closer; he knew how Sam hated crowds.

"Back up everyone; you're crowding them," a voice boomed over everything. Another huge man was striding through the crowd. "That really you, Jonny?" he asked as he reached their group.

"Yeah," John answered softly.

"Then we are going to be having a talk later buddy boy," the man threatened. John winced.

The man turned towards Sam and Dean. "I'm Luke," he said, offering his hand. He reminded Sam of someone, but he couldn't place who. Maybe it was his father, but somehow Sam doubted it. He let it go.

"Dean," Dean replied as he took the hand. "This's Sam," he gestured at Sam.

"I can talk for myself," Sam said mildly.

Daniel and Luke locked eyes over Sam's head and roared in laughter.

"Oh, Jonny, he might have gotten his mother's looks, but he got your independent streak. You have as much fun with him as Dad did with you?"

Before John or Sam could answer a fourth man walked into the room. He stopped dead at the sight before him.

"Jonny?" he asked dazedly.

"Calen?" John asked. He almost didn't recognize the man in front of him as the brother he had left. Sixteen years did that to a person.

"God Jonny; we thought you were dead," Calen breathed as he slowly moved closer.

"I know," John answered uncomfortably.

"You and I are gonna have a talk, baby brother," Calen warned.

"Get in line," yet _another_ man growled from the other side. Sam spun so fast he almost lost his balance.

"Mark," John said.

Once all five of the older Winchesters were together it was clear they were brothers. There was very little difference between them at all. They were all tall (Calen being the tallest and John actually qualifying as the shortest) with dark hair and eyes. The only real difference between them was their ages. Hell, they even had the same muscles, Sam realized.

"That's kind if eerie," Dean muttered in Sam's ear. "Can you imagine five of Dad walking around?" Sam shuddered at the thought.

"Ok, that's enough threatening John; time to meet the kids," Danny interrupted loudly. "Everyone go ahead and line up; you know the drill."

And suddenly they were all in a line of what looked like age order, starting with the youngest.

"I'm Brian," the boy introduced himself with a grin. "I'm twelve." He had nondescript brown hair, lighter then Sam's and brown eyes. Brian went to stand next to Danny.

"I'm Luna," the next girl in line was blond. "I'm thirteen. Brian's my little brother." Her brown eyes sparkled with fun. She too stood near Danny.

"Adrian," the next boy in line said. Brown hair in a crew cut and brown eyes like his little brother. "Fifteen." He seemed to be trying to pull off the whole badass thins, but he failed epically next to Dean.

Lily was also fifteen, but her fiery red hair hung in ringlets down her back and brown eyes peeked curiously from behind her bangs.

Jacklyn, Hayden, and Aiden were all seventeen. They looked at the newcomers with curiously probing looks. Hayden and Aiden had gotten their father's floppy black hair and dark eyes. Jacklyn had also gotten dark hair, but hers fell in ringlets down to her waist. Her blue eyes were full of intelligence and understanding.

Liam, Aarons, and James were eighteen, nineteen, and twenty respectively. They looked exactly alike with wind ruffled blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. They looked smart, but like they knew how to have fun too.

Darin was twenty three and tall enough to be able to touch the ceiling without standing on his toes. He had strawberry blond hair and light blue eyes.

Last were Opal and Violet. At thirty one they were by far the oldest of the children. Opal had blond ringlets to her shoulders and deep brown eyes. Violet, as though she wanted to contrast this, had midnight black, pin straight hair cut in a bob, and the lightest blue eyes Sam had ever seen.

It was odd to see the relatives standing together, seeing as they looked nothing alike. The difference in ages also threw Sam off a bit. The oldest was thirty one and the youngest twelve. Apparently all Winchester had big splits between their children.

Sam noticed that they were still missing Caleb and all of his aunts, but that was quite alright with him because he was still trying to remember everyone else's names.

"I hope Caleb shows soon," Luke put in with worry in his voice. "That boy needs to be home more."

"He'll be fine," John offered automatically.

"And how do you know that?" Calen asked curiously.

John, Sam, and Dean all grinned. "He's a Winchester, isn't he?" they asked together in 'duh' voices.

"Yeah, so?" Mark asked in a confused voice.

"Winchester are _always_ ok. Trust us; we know," Sam and Dean answered together. Sam's back twinged with a reminder of stitches that he had to be careful not to pull, but he ignored them.

Soon everyone was called to the table for dinner.

They were introduced to Rose, Kevlyn, Evalyn, and Misty. The women seemed nice enough, but only time would tell.

It was crowded and noisy, and Sam didn't like it. People were always talking (sometimes over each other) and he didn't know anyone. He stuck as close to Dean and his father as he could get.

He picked at his food as he normally did, slipping it on to Dean's plate when no one but Dean was looking, His big brother merely grinned at Sam when he realized why he never seemed to run out of food. He had tried to make a big deal out Sam eating when they had food when they were both younger, but eventually gave up. It only made it worse when they didn't have food. Besides, it made Sam throw up if he ate too much.

Dinner was almost over when the first real diversion came. No one but Sam noticed the door opening. Sam was instantly on full alert, but his fears where almost instantly proved groundless.

No one noticed Caleb walking through the door until he had plucked Sam from his seat and thrown him in the air.

Sam shrieked, half from glee, half from fear (he hadn't been expecting that), but Caleb simply laughed as he caught the younger boy.

"What're you doing here Little Bit?" he asked as he set Sam back on the ground.

This immediately proved to be the wrong move, because Sam tackled the man with all the strength in his tiny body. They both went down, laughing and throwing harmless punches as they did.

"Dude, that was so not a cool move," Dean said half angrily. "I almost shot you. Again." And indeed he was tucking a gun back into his waist band as he spoke.

"Gottcha!" Sam yelled happily as he came out on top.

"Damn. How the hell do you_ always_ do that?" Caleb asked. "You're so tiny you should be easy to beat, but your like some kind of whirlwind when you fight." He flipped them over so he was on top again.

"I'm just awesome like that," Sam grunted as he attempted to flip them again. "Dude, what have you been eating? You weigh like a million pounds."

Caleb grinned. "Well, Short Stuff, I had a bacon cheeseburger around half a day ago with some fries and a chocolate shake," he began.

"Never mind Cales; I don't want to hear it. And don't call me Short Stuff," Sam added defiantly as the much bigger man pinned him.

"Why not? You _are_ short, you know?" Caleb teased.

Sam growled as he attempted to flip them again. He was getting ready to play dirty and use his finger nails to pinch Caleb off him (Caleb didn't have any finger nails and therefore couldn't retaliate in the same way) when a booming voice stopped the action instantly.

"Caleb Lukas Winchester, get off you cousin _now_," Luke's voice blared. "You're going to hurt him!

Caleb was up in an instant and pulling Sam with him. "Cousin?" he asked, then he moved onto a more important topic.

"I would never hurt Sammy. In fact, if past experience is anything to go on, Sam was just about to turn the tables on me."

Sam grinned.

Everyone at the table stared.

"You know, I _still_ don't know how you manage to _always_ come on top Little Bit," Caleb added in sulkily. "What're you doing here anyway?"

"Well, we had some people practically break down out door today and drag us here. Turns out we have a rather large family that we never knew about. Our lives are so cliché," Dean sighed.

"Dean, your lives are the farthest thing from cliché I've ever heard of. Hell, even _my_ life is more cliché then yours," Caleb answered with an eye roll.

"You find a case here, John?" he asked as he took note of the older man lounging in his chair and clearly enjoying the scene before him.

"Yeah," John answered. "Y'know you could've mentioned that we were related before this."

"How the hell was I supposed to know you were using your real name? _No one_ uses their real last name in our line of work," Caleb said with exasperation.

"Which is exactly why I did," John answered smugly. "The last thing anyone would expect was for us to use our real names. It throws people off."

"Dude, Winchester is a kind of gun; perfect fake name for our profession," Caleb complained.

John laughed.

"Wait, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're making it sound like you work together. And if you tell me this job includes guns you can just kiss it good bye, Caleb," Luke's voice was very serious.

"Can we have this discussion later? I'm starving. I was in the middle of a job when you called," Caleb pleaded.

Luke watched his son for a second. "Fine, but your not getting out of explaining things this time little boy," he warned.

"Of course," Caleb answered with a stoic face. Sam could see the gears turning to think up a lie. "That goes for you too, John," Luke added.

"Yeah, I know," John said dryly. "You've made that abundantly clear, thank you very much."

"You're gonna be in sooo much trouble," Caleb realized with a laugh. He sounded lik a second grader taunting his older brother for getting caught stealing a cookie. "Everyone thought you were dead; they're gonna be pissed now."

"Thanks for the news flash," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Sit down and eat," Caleb's mother ordered, her lips in a thin line. She obviously didn't like the idea of he son having anything to do with guns.

Caleb didn't bother to try and find a chair at the already crowded table; he just sat down in Sam's chair placed the smaller boy in his lap.

"Caleb," Sam muttered, red with embarrassment. "Let me down."

"No thanks Little Bit. I haven't seen you in forever. Besides, I don't know if there's even another open chair for me to take.

Sam sighed, but didn't push it.

The rest of dinner was a quiet affair, much different from the noise of earlier. Everyone seemed to be studying Sam, and it was making him feel like the specimen in a science lab. He was almost waiting for someone to try and dissect him.

"How did the job go, Caleb?" John finally asked when he got tired of the silence.

Caleb looked up, about to answer, when something stopped him.

A long drawn out howl was heard from outside. This wasn't something one usually heard in this part of the country, so it had everyone looking up in surprise.

Caleb went dead pale. "Shit," he breathed.


	3. Chapter 3 Black Dog

**I don't own supernatural. **

**This chapter is shorter then any of the others so far. The next one will be longer.**

Chapter 3 Black Dog

"Caleb," John began with a deep fortifying breath. "_Please_ tell me you didn't leave the job unfinished."

Caleb shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, I might _maybe_ have just forgotten it and hurried home," Caleb cringed. "Give me a break; the last time there was a vital family meeting someone was dying!" he added to the furious look he got from John.

"That I can understand," John sighed. "Still, that's not what I taught you Caleb. You got the house protected?"

"As well as I could without raising suspicion," Caleb assured.

"Which means-" John prompted.

"Salt on top of all the doors and windows. Took me a full night to do that. Sigils drawn in that type of white marker that doesn't show up unless you write on special paper. Those are all over the house; on the door posts, on the doors themselves, on the ceiling, under rugs. Same with the devil's traps. They're everywhere; you just can't see them. Holy water stashed in every room right next to the salt. I had to find the dumb waiter to get that set up."

"You used to like to play in those, Jonny," Calen remember, laughing. He didn't understand the discussion, but he didn't like the tension suddenly present in the room.

John "hmm"ed like he had barely heard Calen.

"You armed, Sam, Dean?" he then asked his sons.

"When am I not armed?" Dean inquired with a snort.

Calen was horrified to see John's youngest pulling a knife from his pocket. The little boy looked so small and vulnerable next to Caleb's giant frame; it was a stark contrast to the knife and Sam's expression.

"What about the bag?" John asked.

"I'll get it," Dean volunteered. He soon rushed back into the room with a huge duffel bag.

"Get the kids out of here. Put them to bed or something," John said to his father. "They'll be more hindrance then help in this situation, and I don't want them hurt."

Calen was stunned at the sudden change in his baby brother. One minute the boy was sitting quietly eating dinner with the rest of the family, and the next he was barking out orders like some sort of military commander.

As soon as the complaining and confused kids were hustled out of the room by their equally confused mothers, the real action began.

"Let's go boys; your daddy said to get you out," he heard his father coax, trying to persuade Sam and Dean out of the room.

"Yeah, here's the thing; Sam and I don't exactly have the normal innocence level of other kids. We know what we're doing, so leave us alone," Dean told the man distractedly as he rummaged through the bag.

Caleb was also giving some trouble.

"I'm _not_ leaving John to clean up my mess alone," he insisted as Luke tried to drag the boy from the room.

"Leave them," John ordered as he rummaged through his coat and came up with a journal. "You got any idea what we're hunting, Caleb?"

"Black Dog," Caleb answered instantly as he pulled away from his father. "I was hunting it in the woods when I got the call to come here."

"Then it picked up your scent and followed you home," Sam surmised.

"Yeah, I guess," Caleb admitted, looking shame faced.

"Right," John sighed. "This is why I cut all ties; I didn't want work following me home."

"That I can definitely respect," Caleb agreed.

"Dean, we need the silver knives and bullets; you know the drill," John commanded.

He looked towards his sons to find them already loading the guns.

"Good," he said with a smile.

"Any of you know how to work guns?" he asked. All the women had disappeared with their children, so Calen, Mark, Luke, Danny, and their father were the only ones left in the room.

"Course we do, Jonny," Calen reassured.

"Good," John said repeated. He walked over to the guns his sons had just finished loading. "What about knives? You got your stuff Caleb?"

"Yeah; I got my stuff," Caleb answered, pulling a knife from up his sleeve.

"You know, we're going to be having a talk on how there is supposed to be a strictly no weapons policy in this house once we're done with whatever it is we're doing," Calen found himself saying. He didn't like that not only did his baby brother carry weapons, but also three of his nephews did too.

"Sure," John placated distantly as he flipped through the pages of the book he was holding.

"Found it!" he suddenly exclaimed, bearing a ridiculous resemblance to the five year old that Calen had helped take care of. He suddenly wanted to snatch the gun out of his brother's hands for fear of the boy hurting himself with it.

"You read this page and then take the guns and knives and stake out the place. Don't let anyone or anything in without testing them first," John ordered.

"What tests?" Danny asked.

"The ones Dean did on you earlier," John replied flatly. That got Calen to wondering about that.

"You want us to throw water and salt and then nick you with a knife?" their father questioned incredulously. Calen almost burst out laughing at the thought of his badass looking nephew throwing water all over his father and younger brother.

"Not just any water," Sam took the time to explain as he slipped another two knives up his sleeves and a gun into his waist band. Calen hated the ease with which the family baby was handling such dangerous weapons. "Holy water. It's been blessed, and any demon that tries to come near will be burned by it," Sam finished.

He sounded completely ridiculous as he said it, but Calen couldn't help but be worried when the boy seemed serious.

"Demons?" Mark asked, obviously concerned as well.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Salt will keep any spirits out, and it might slow down a black dog. The only other thing you have to worry about is the silver knife. It _has_ to be silver, or it won't do any good."

"What?" Luke queried in confusion. "John, Caleb, what's going on?"

"Just….stay in here, alright Dad?" Caleb requested. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"Don't open the doors or windows," John added.

"If you see anything shoot first; ask questions later," Dean put in, sticking to his father's normal, 'I'm leaving' lecture.

"Read the journal," Sam advised. "It'll explain better then we could."

And then they were gone, leaving the rest of the men in the family with a journal full of notes on various mythical creatures and how to kill them. Oh boy…..

_**Supernatural**_

Calen looked through John's journal with a feeling of disbelief. John actually _believed_ in all these things? His notes were surprisingly clear for a man who was obviously not quite right in the head. Calen couldn't help but wonder how poor Caleb had gotten dragged into all of this though.

"That's it. This is bullcrap; I'm going to get them," Luke finally sighed after fifteen minutes of reading.

"I'm coming too," Calen agreed with a sigh of his own. Poor John; first his wife had died, and then he started having delusions about monsters trying to kill him and his children.

Danny looked a little doubtful.

"What's up Danny?" Mark asked as he noticed this.

"Well, it's just….. When we were over at John's I saw a couple pictures of creatures that I thought he had printed out. They looked really realistic though, so I was kind of suspicious. What….what if they're actually right about this?" Daniel inquired.

"You're kidding, right?" Luke questioned incredulously. Calen almost got the feeling that he didn't want to be real more because if it was then Caleb was in constant danger more than anything else.

"Let's watch them," Calen suggested. He was the oldest, and it normally came to him to settle the arguments.

"How?" Mark asked pointedly.

"Through the window," Calen said. "Just like all the kids are doing upstairs."

The rest of them blinked.

"Alright then," their father decided doubtfully. Calen knew their father, and he knew John; neither one of them would believe in something like this unless they had solid proof right in front of their eyes.

So they all trooped towards the windows. The living room windows opened onto the wide front lawn, and the five oldest Winchesters looked out with trepidation.

The sight that greeted their eyes horrified them. Caleb, Dean, and John were all running towards Sam, who had a giant black dog with glistening teeth on top of him.

They watch with fear as Sam stabbed the thing again and again with no effect.

They even watched as John shot the beast straight through the head without any effect.

"That should've killed _anything_," Calen whispered through his fear.

"The book said it could only be killed by silver through its' heart," Danny whispered back.

The fight was brought to a swift end by Sam's knife _finally_ finding the dog's heart. The giant animal shuddered once, and then collapsed completely on the tiny form underneath it.

The other men were there instantly, pulling the thing off Sam. The little boy was back on his feet in seconds.

The body was dragged away, and as soon as the hunters were out of sight the rest of the family relaxed the tiniest bit. It wasn't that they were glad that they couldn't see their family; it was more that the horrific corps was making their stomachs turn just by looking at it.

"I really, _really_ hope the kids didn't watch that," Mark said with a pale face.

They all froze as they considered this possibility. They were broken out of their horrified dazes by the thundering of feet on the stairs.

"Here they come," Luke murmured.

Danny was the first to get assaulted by a crying child. Brian raced down the stairs and straight into his father's arms, sobbing with fear. The boy was only eleven after all. Luna soon filled up what little space was left to grip her father, tears streaming down her face too.

Adrian (being too old to cry at fifteen) simply stood there, pale as death and shaking.

Lily, Jacklyn, and Opal were all crying with _no_ regards to how old they were, and the rest of the boys and Violet looked like they were going into shock.

"What, the. Hell. Was that?" Aiden finally managed to ask.

His father and grandfather exchanged looks.

"And don't try to tell us that was just a normal dog," James added. "We know it wasn't. They shot it through the head and it didn't do anything."

Luke sighed. "Living room; now," he ordered quietly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Danny moved to the kitchen to grab John's journal. He returned to see the rest of the family already settled on various couches and chairs around the room. They were sure to leave one couch open for John, Dean, Caleb, and Sam.

He sat down and pulled Brian into his lap. Lily was being treated the same way, as was Jacklyn, and Hayden and Aiden were snuggled into their father's sides. They all looked so much younger that way. It was like when they got upset they aged backwards until they reached ages were snuggling up to Mommy and Daddy wasn't embarrassing.

Calen opened his mouth to try and explain, but they were cut off by the door slamming open. Their missing family members streamed through the entry. Everything seemed fine until they noticed that Caleb and Dean were holding up a blood drenched and pale as death Sam.

**So….thoughts?**


	4. Chapter 4 Medical Expertise and the Trut

**I don't own supernatural.**

**I LOVE THIS CHAPTER! I don't know why; maybe because I really like humor and this chapter had quite a bit of it. **

Chapter 4 Medical Expertise and the Truth about Jobs

John didn't even seem to notice the rest of the family sitting stunned as he barked out orders. "Dean; the medical kit. Caleb; towels and stuff. Sam, stop squirming for Gods sakes!" he yelled.

"I'm fine. I can walk by myself," Sam complained.

"Oh my God," Rose interrupted before John could answer. "I'll call an ambulance."

"NO!" all four hunters yelled at once, momentarily freezing in place. Caleb had just returned with towels, Dean with a giant first aid kit, and John was trying to help Sam onto the last remaining couch while said little boy tried to wiggle out of his father's hold when they froze, so they looked a little comical. Well, they would've if it hadn't been for the blood covering Sam.

"What?" Calen asked, shocked. It was clear that Sam needed medical attention, and (if the way John was holding his arm was any indication) John needed some too.

"No hospital. Hospitals are a hunter's worst nightmare," John answered distractedly as the action restarted and he pulled Sam's shirt over his head. He grabbed a towel to sponge the blood off his son's back and upper right arm.

"Especially John's," Caleb put in as Dean took the towel from John. "What do you think CPS would say if they saw all the scars?"

The rest of the family was stunned speechless as Dean shoved his father gently out of his way with instructions to take care of himself.

John did just that, inspecting his arm for a good few minutes, trying to decide if it was broken or not.

"I popped the stitches on my back," Sam informed Dean.

Dean swore awfully before moving around his little brother to sit down behind him. The older boy continued swearing under his breath as he rummaged through the kit.

Dean came up with a medical needle and dental floss, and got to work repairing the stitches; disinfecting as he went.

Sam also grabbed a needle, thread, and more disinfectant from the seemingly endless medical box, and set to work preparing his arm for stitching.

Caleb gently pulled the needle from the small boy, winning much protest at the same time.

"I can do it," Sam insisted.

"I'm sure you can," Caleb replied calmly. "And I will allow you to do so when I have to put a cast on your idiot father's arm."

John snorted. "Watch who you're calling an idiot," he warned. "I'm not the one who learned to put in stitches from a nine year old."

"Well _excuuuuuuuuse_ me," Caleb snorted. "I didn't have a freak father who insisted on me learning how to sew myself up when I was eight years old like Sam does."

"I take great pleasure in being a freak, thank you very much," John proclaimed with dignity. He pulled his arm in just the right direction, and there was a small click as the bone snapped back into place.

"Looks like it's your turn Little Bit," Caleb told Sam, holding out the needle.

"_Finally_," Sam exaggerated. "You sew like an old lady Cales."

"You know, if you weren't currently indisposed I would have made you pay for that comment," Caleb interjected causally.

"Of course," Sam assured. "That's why I'm saying it now while I can get away with it."

"Brat," Caleb remarked, flipping Sam the finger.

"Floozy," Sam retorted.

"Oh, getting dirty, are we?" Caleb teased.

"You think that's dirty, I could tell you a few of the things Dean and I throw at each other. They would probably make your nonexistent hair curl."

"Now that was just low," Caleb said.

"And Sam wins again. That's, what, 356 to 4, Caleb?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The kid lives with you and Dean," Caleb protested as he wound the plaster around John's arm, "what do you expect? Your children play a game that consists of thinking up a new insult to go along with each letter of the alphabet; the loser is the first one to fail to come up with a derogatory term. That isn't normal, John."

"Who ever said I wanted normal kids?" John asked, sounding insulted.

At this point Dean broke into the banter with a loud and triumphant, "Done!"

Everyone turned to look at him. "What?" he asked. "Do know how difficult it is to sew up someone's back? Next time I call doing his arm."

"You're such a crybaby," Sam muttered.

"Hey, at least I'm not a bitch," Dean shot back, holding his hands up to prove his innocence.

"No, you're just a jerk," Sam quipped.

"As much as I _hate_ to interrupt the fun you seem to be having throwing insults at each other, the rest of the family would still _love _an explanation," their grandfather broke in.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," Caleb answered, blinking as he took in the whole family watching him like he was an alien. "The lie I was constructing is going to be completely pointless now, isn't it?" he sighed as he realized this fact.

"Excuse me?" his father asked, voice even more stern then it had been earlier.

"Well you wouldn't have believed me if I waltzed in one day and proclaimed monster were real and one of them killed my girlfriend," Caleb answered in exasperation. "I wanted to stay _out_ of any mental hospitals, thank you."

"Let's start at the beginning, which, if I'm not mistaken, lies with John," Calen cut in before things could escalate. He focused his attention on his baby brother.

"You all know I married a woman named Mary, correct?" John inquired.

"Most of us were at the wedding," Opal affirmed, nodding as she did.

"Well, on the day Sam was six months old everything was normal at first. I went to work, came home to Mary and the kids happy trying to teach Sam to crawl in the living room. We ate dinner, and then I fell asleep watching the TV downstairs."

"You have such a bad habit of doing that," Mark snorted. "I remember when you were younger and Mom couldn't get you to sleep she sit you in front of the TV and you'd be out in seconds," he finished with a fond smile.

"I'll have to remember that," Dean muttered under his breath.

John ignored them all. "I woke up in the middle of the night to Mary screaming. I was up the stairs and in Sam's room in less then three seconds, but I was too late."

"I didn't see anything at first. Sam was in his crib, nothing was out of place. Then something dripped onto my hand. I looked up, and Mary was there, on the ceiling, with her stomach cut open. Then there was fire everywhere. I grabbed Sam from his crib and gave him to Dean. Told Dean to-"

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back," Dean finished in a whisper.

"Yeah," John confirmed, looking a little surprised. "And from there it all just kind of snowballed. I met a woman named Missouri who told me about the supernatural, and we were on the road for out first hunt by the time Dean's birthday rolled around."

"Been doing the same thing ever since. We look through the papers for odds deaths, or things of that type and when we find one we check it out. Sam and Dean have been hunting since they were eight."

"Eight!" Danny asked in horror. "John, you have to be kidding us," he pleaded. "We just saw how dangerous it can get."

"I love hunting," Dean cut in dreamily. "It's the best job in the world."

"…We can move back to that later then," his grandfather decided after a short bemused pause. "What about you, Caleb?" Hadrian asked.

"Well….." Caleb trailed into abashed silence. "You know how I _kind of_ told you I'm currently living with my out of town girlfriend who works a lot and that's why you never see her?" he finally asked.

Dean snorted. "Sounds more like Sam's type then yours," he jested.

This earned him a slap from Sam and a _look_ from Caleb. "What excuse would you have used then?" Caleb challenged.

"I would've played dead like Dad," Dean answered promptly. "No one's looking for you or nagging you if they think you're dead."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Next time I need an excuse for my long absenteeism I'll remember that," he taunted sarcastically.

"Dude, you lost me at absenteeism," Dean responded carelessly. "My tired brain doesn't even know what that means."

"Basically means absent," Sam threw in.

"Back on topic, if you please," Luke cut in.

Caleb turned to his father with a nervous look on his face. "Um…..my-my girlfriend died _years_ ago. Right after you first met her, actually. There was this ghost-"

"Ghost?" Brian cut in fearfully.

"Yeah," Caleb confirmed sadly. "It was going after couples, but Amy and I didn't know that. We got the house cheep since no one else wanted it. They were all afraid they were going to be next. Turns out Amy and I were."

"It was just a normal night when it happened, actually. We were," Caleb went scarlet. "We were actually in bed," he went even redder, "when it happened. One minute we were in the middle of, how to put this?"

"Assuring each other of your love," Sam suggested, looking sympathetic for Caleb.

"You could just say f-" that was as far as Dean got before John threw a hand over his mouth.

"There are children in the vicinity," he reminded, motioning towards where Brian was watching the scene with wide eyes.

"So?" Dean asked.

"You know, sometimes I wonder about my decision to let you help raise your brother," John thought aloud.

Sam saw quite a few people doing double takes at that one, but Caleb continued before anyone could intervene.

"_Anyway_," Caleb interrupted loudly. "One second we were in the middle of something, and the next she was dead with this creepy teenage girl standing there with a knife in her hand." Caleb shuddered. "She was coming towards me when-"

"When we interrupted in all our awesomeness!" Dean cut in.

"…Not what I was going to say, but that works anyway," Caleb deliberated. "She managed to slash me up pretty good before you got there though."

"And _you_ wouldn't go to the damn hospital until we had salted and burned the bitch," John remembered with a scowl.

"You actually thought I was just going to go around wondering if she was going to shred my night life again?" Caleb asked incredulously.

"Everyone else does!" John cried.

"That just goes to show you that Winchesters, no matter what name they're currently taking, are stubborn bastards who don't know what's good for them. At least, the hunters are…..Actually, screw that, the whole family is stubborn," Caleb finished.

"What do you mean, 'salted and burned'?" Opal asked. She didn't really seem too keen on her "little" brother being anywhere _near_ fire.

"You get rid of ghosts with salt, but they normally have something tying them to the living plain," Sam explained. "In most cases it's their bones, but it can really be anything that carries their DNA. You have to get rid of what ever's tying them to earth before they can move on. To do that you pour salt all over it, and then burn it."

"But you said most of the time it's their bones," Aiden objected.

"Yeah; so?" Dean asked.

"How are you supposed to burn their bones?" Hayden asked.

"I'll be right back," Dean left the room, entering seconds later with the weapons bag.

He unzipped the bag and pulled out a shovel. Sam and Caleb snickered, knowing where this was going. Dean had done the same thing to Caleb.

"This," Dean began, holding out the shovel, "is a shovel. You use it to move dirt."

"I know what a shovel is," Hayden objected in surprise. "I don't see why it's relevant though."

"To get rid of most ghosts you dig up their grave and burn theirs bones," Caleb clarified, taking pity on his younger cousin.

"That's disgusting," Jacklyn squealed. She didn't seem like the girly type (not in the bag jeans and band t-shirt she was wearing) but she sure sounded like a pretty little princess at that moment.

"Tell me about it," John groaned, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. He had gotten Sam and Dean up it four in the morning to get to this town today. He hadn't been expecting a hunt this soon.

Sam and Dean both caught their father's mood. Sam yawned and leaned against Dean while his older brother sleepily pulled him closer.

"What time did you get them up, John?" Caleb asked with a nod at Sam and Dean.

"Uh, about four, I think," he replied.

"Four!" Hadrian exploded. "What were you thinking, John! Sam isn't even finished growing yet; he needs his sleep!"'

"I was _thinking_ that people were dying in the town next to this one, and I wasn't going to let more die because we were too lazy to get our butts out of bed," John answered with steel in his voice.

"Don't try to talk him out of it," Caleb advised. "It never works. Just give him this quietly disapproving look and hope he gets the hint some day."

"What happens if I ignore the hint?" John asked, obviously amused.

"Then we just give you more hints. It would be a lot better for all parties if you would just give in, John," Caleb retorted.

"Well the remainder of this talk can be saved for tomorrow. I think every one could use an early night," Hannah Winchester decided.

"Yes mother," her five sons coursed, gathering up their own various children.

John moved to shake his sons back to wakefulness, but was stopped by Calen. His older brother gave him a disapproving look, and gathered Dean into his arms.

John was too late to tell his big brother that that was a bad idea, so he just held his breath as Dean suddenly went stiff.

Calen stopped moving for a second as Dean cracked his eyes open to see what was going on.

"You drop me, and they'll never find the body," he muttered faintly. He then snuggled closer into his uncle's arms and went back to sleep.

John's jaw dropped as he stared at his oldest boy. Calen gave him a smug look and continued on up the stairs.

John blinked a couple times, then gathered his youngest in his arms and followed his oldest brother.

Once they entered the room John and Calen both set down their precious burdens on the bed. John hesitated for a few seconds, then started undressing his sons.

He stripped them both down to boxers and then pulled a fresh t-shirt over their heads. Both of them were too tired to do anything but allow their father to dress them like toddlers. It was getting close to summer, so John didn't bother with any pants.

As soon as he allowed them to sleep again Sam curled into his older brother's arms. Dean threw an arm around his baby brother, and they both settled in for the night. They looked a lot younger like that.

John sent one last worried look towards his son, and the followed his own big brother out of the room.

"They never sleep like that," he informed Calen. "Normally if you do much as _touch_ Dean he's up and rearing to go."

"They're fine, John. You _did_ get them up at four in the morning," Calen assured him.

"I always get them up at four," John dismissed this as of no consequence.

"Jonny!" Calen scolded in shock.

John had the good sense to look somewhat abashed.

"Your boys will be fine with a few good nights of sleep and some home cooked food. Truth be told you could probably use the same," Calen stated firmly as he pushed John into his room.

John sighed and went around gathering his things. His room was still decorated the same as it had been all those years ago when he left. Sports posters decorated the walls and his bed was covered in a dark blue comforter.

He started to undress, then noticed that his brother was still standing in the open doorway.

"Uh, Calen?" he asked.

"Hmm?" his brother responded.

"Do you need something?" John inquired.

"Nope," Calen answered.

"Oh," John said. "Then why are you, um," John didn't want to be rude and ask why his big brother was still there, but he also didn't want to change with the door wide open. "You're holding the door open," he settled on.

"Oh!" Calen flushed and moved into the room before closing the door behind him.

John didn't know why Calen was in his room, but decided to ask later. He proceeded to get changed, not caring in the least that his brother was watching him. John Winchester was _not_ a modest man.

"You_ sure_ you don't need anything?" he asked when Calen was still there after he finished changing.

"Just making sure you get to bed," Calen answered.

John stared at the older man incredulously. "I'm not _six_ Calen," he protested.

"Hate to tell you, Jonny, but you'll always be my baby brother," Calen smirked at him. "I was twenty when you were born; I was plenty old enough to be your father by that time."

John rolled his eyes, having heard this line of reasoning many times before. Hell, he had heard this type of reasoning from Dean concerning Sam. Though Dean _was_ only four years older then Sam.

"Whatever Calen. I'm too tired to argue with you tonight," John groaned as he rolled into his bed.

"Go to sleep, baby brother," Calen ordered as he pushed the hair away from John's forehead. _Lord_ it was odd to have his older brothers back. If anyone else had tried that, they would've had their hand broken faster'n you can say "what?"

"We can talk more tomorrow," Calen added a little more sternly.

John was too tired to feel any more then sleepy dread. He simply rolled over and fell into the waiting embrace of Morpheus.

Calen stood and watched him for a few more seconds until their father entered the room.

"He's fine, Calen," Hadrian assured him. "He'll still be here in the morning. You can give him the lecture of his life and ground his ass to the house if you want to. For now you need sleep as much as he does. It's been a long day."

Calen yawned, silently agreeing with his father. He left the room with no more protest, leaving behind only a kiss on his baby brother's forehead.

John was already sleeping and would never know, but Calen, Mark, Luke, and Danny had their baby brother back. John better be ready for some coddling.

**Gasp! John let his brother actually _touch_ him! For some random reason I really like Calen. More then any of the others, actually. **

**Is something actually wrong with Sam and Dean?**

**For anyone who didn't know, a floozy is a girl or woman who sleeps around.**


	5. Chapter 5 The Switch

**I don't own supernatural.**

…**.I'm afraid you guys aren't going to like this chapter. Everyone seemed to love this story the way it was, but I honestly can't see any other direction I could've taken with this. This popped into my head and I _had _to write it. With my stories it isn't like _I _write them and chose how they go. It's like the story chooses what it wants to happen and I'm just the vessel who has to do the writing.**

**All my stories have a twist in them that I use to try and make them a little more original, and this is the chapter with a twist. **

**WARNINGS!: mentions of child abuse. Not John, not precisely. You'll see if you read.**

**More notes coming at the end.**

Chapter 5 The Switch

Sam Winchester woke up in an unfamiliar bed. This in itself wouldn't be all that odd; he and Dean rarely stayed in one motel more then a couple of nights. What was odd, was that he was snuggled up to Dean. He hadn't slept in the same bed as Dean since before he went to college.

"Dean!" he hissed as he glanced around at the room they were in. They hadn't gone to sleep in this room last night, he knew. "Dean!" he tried again when his brother only stirred and gripped Sam tighter to him.

Dean woke with a start. "Sam?" he asked groggily. "What're you doin' in my bed?"

"I don't know where we are, Dean," Sam informed his big brother as he tried to coax Dean to full wakefulness.

Sometime worked (Sam wasn't sure if it was his words or his nails tapping gently on Dean's shoulder) because Dean jolted into a sitting position. He had neglected to let go of Sam, however, so Sam was pulled up with him.

"Where are we?" Dean questioned urgently as he looked around wildly.

"I don't know," Sam choked out from where he was being nearly strangled by Dean's tight hold on him. "I think something must've gone wrong on our way back to our own reality."

Dean moaned. "_Please_ tell me we didn't end up in a reality where we're lovers," he begged.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sam answered briskly (he had managed to loosen Dean's strangle hold). "We're brothers here, at least," he continued confidently.

"How do you know?" Dean asked worriedly.

Sam grabbed the amulet around Dean's neck. "Where else would you have gotten this?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh good," Dean sighed in relief. "It would be sooooooo awkward to be in a world where we're lovers."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We aged backwards, too," he added in. It was true. Dean looked around twenty if Sam had to guess.

It was right after the Flagstaff incident, he realized; he had never had _quiet_ as bad of a punishment as he had had after that incident. When his father and brother caught up with him, John had sent Dean out, then proceed to punish Sam. With first take his belt to Sam, and then a switch. It had left welts on Sam for _weeks_ after wards.

The door was suddenly opened, interrupting their conversation.

"Oh good, you're up," a tall man with messy black hair said. Sam shrunk back towards Dean as the unfamiliar man approached.

"Aw, look Sammy," Dean exclaimed excitedly. "It's Uncle…..you're Uncle Mark, aren't you?" he questioned.

At the man's confused nod he continued.

"I haven't seen him since I was four. You never saw him, of course."

"We have uncles?" Sam asked in confusion, tilting his head back so he could see his big brother.

"Yep," Dean confirmed, popping the p. "Four of them. That's why Dad went so crazy when you asked about family for that one project you had in eleventh grade."

"Oh," Sam said blankly. "_That's_ what he considered bad enough to rip up all the work I'd already done?"

"He didn't want his family involved in hunting," Dean shrugged. "Something about not putting them in danger, so it would be safer to never mention them again."

"That's nice," Sam snorted.

"If it keeps them alive…" Dean trailed off.

Sam nodded his acceptance.

"You two coming down to breakfast?" Mark asked unsurely. There was something wrong here.

"Sure, if you'll show us the way," Dean answered nonchalantly. "We're not exactly familiar with our surroundings."

"Alright," Mark agreed slowly. Something was _very_ wrong here. Sam wasn't even _in _eleventh grade yet. He left the room to give the boys time to get dressed.

Sam and Dean got out of bed and dressed quickly.

"God I forgot how short you used to be," Dean proclaimed as they walked out of their bedroom. He easily swept Sam into his arms, carrying him like a toddler.

"I'm not six, Dean," Sam informed his older brother with a pout.

"No, you appear to be around, what, sixteen?" Dean questioned.

"Yep," Sam replied, "and you're twenty. Where do you think Dad is? You think he just dumped us here?"

"He's waiting for you at the table," Mark said, sending them an odd look.

"Oh, well that's great," Dean muttered sarcastically. His view of their father had rapidly deteriorated after John's order to save Sam or kill him. He now took anything John had ever said with suspicion.

Sam had always kept it to himself that their father acted differently when Dean wasn't home. He hadn't wanted to take his brother's idol from him. Sam suspected that their father had known for a _very_ long time that there was a possibility of Sam going evil.

Ever since Sam was fifteen, every time Dean left the house their father would start drinking. The first time Sam didn't think much of it. His birthday had just passed, and he knew birthdays were hard on his father. So he simply decided to stay out of John's way. That hadn't worked.

He had been doing his homework peacefully in his room (far away from his father) when the bedroom door had slammed open. John had entered, his face a thunder could of anger. Sam had been confused; he had done all of his chores, finished training for the day, and left his father alone to drink, so why was the man angry?

He had quickly found out it had something to do with his mother's death. His father had snarled something about "Mary sacrificing herself for _this_?" and proceeded to take his belt to Sam. Sam had had a hell of time hiding the welts from Dean.

After that it happened every time Dean left the two of them alone for more than an hour. Eventually John had decided Sam was too old for the belt and started cutting a switch when he needed one. The night Sam had left for Stanford his father had decided the switch wasn't working either. He had threatened to either get a whip and try to physically _whip_ the evilness out of Sam, or take the switch to Sam's back.

He had had enough, and simply ran before his father could make good on his threat. The switch already came away bloody from his beaten backside; he didn't want to know what it would do to his much less padded back.

Dean had never found out, though; he made sure of that. He could only imagine what it would do him if he found out Dean was beating up little kids in his spare time. He thought it would be something like that for Dean if he told his big brother about what their father was doing when Dean wasn't watching.

So Dean was completely oblivious to how much fear Sam connected to their father as they walked into the family dinning room.

Dean looked around the table and spotted only three more open chairs around the _huge_ table. He also spotted Caleb, which he would be asking about later. Two of the open chairs were next to his father, obviously waiting for him and Sam. The other open chair had to be Uncle Mark's.

Dean strode into the room, ignoring the odd looks he was getting because he was carrying Sam. Sam himself felt like hiding his face in Dean's shoulder, but resisted the urge.

He had always been shy, but Hell had made thing _infinitely _worse. Michel and Lucifer had put parts of him in regular display that he had never shown to anyone but Jess and a few other special girls. And Dean, of course. Dean had changed his diapers; he literally had _nothing_ Dean hadn't seen before.

Anyway, whenever people stared at him now, it was like Michel and Lucifer were inspecting him all over again. Maybe licking their lips as they planed out what they wanted to do with him later. Lucifer always loved to taunt him about how Sam was his bitch in ever sense of the word. He hadn't been lying.

Sam shuddered, and felt Dean pull him impossibly closer. He was probably sending nasty looks at everyone over Sam's head too.

Dean took his seat and sat Sam on his lap, completely ignoring the chair right next to him that was meant for Sam. Sam couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed or even to _want_ off of Dean.

Hell had left him broken in ways no one else could imagine. Sometimes he felt like six year old Sammy again, who just needed Big Brother to make everything all better. It was hard when he was six foot four, but right now he was the perfect size for Dean to take care of again. It was actually kind of nice, and Dean was _more_ then perfectly happy to be able to take care of Sam again. He had missed his baby brother as much as Sam had missed his big brother.

As soon as they were seated conversation around the table restarted. "Are you ok?" John asked, looking at the two of them oddly as Sam reached for the oatmeal (something he had hated as a child, but also one of the few things on the table that didn't remind him of Hell in any way) and Dean grabbed the honey for him.

"Actually," Dean began conversationally. "We are adjusting to this reality at this moment. Stupid angel transported us to the wrong universe on our way home."

The whole table stopped to stare again. "Don't you people have anything better to do then stare at us?" Dean questioned angrily.

"Aw, you _already_ managed to ruin the joke, Deano," a pouty voice proclaimed from where Gabriel was suddenly standing in the middle of the table. "They weren't supposed to _know_ you were from a different universe."

"_You _have something to do with this?" Sam inquired disbelievingly. "Aren't you supposed to be _dead_?"

"Ah, my dear little Sammy, I love that you're naive enough to think I only have _something_ to do with this. I have _everything_ to do with this, sweetheart. By the way, did anyone ever mention to you how absolutely _adorable_ you were when you were younger?"

"Umm…." Sam trailed off.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then," Gabriel sighed. "I am, in fact, dead in your time. I had to set this up so it would work even after I died. Very tricky, let me tell you," he confided.

"Yeah, well, do you mind getting your angelic feet out of the bacon?" Dean queried with annoyance.

"Only you," Caleb snorted.

All attention focused on him.

"What?" he questioned. "It's true. Only _Dean_ could be worried about the _bacon_ when we have an _angel_ standing in the middle of our table."

"Don't worry dear boy," Gabriel assured. "Dean has had _more _then enough time to get used to angels popping up in the most random of places. I think my baby brother took care of that, did he not?"

"You mean the one I'm gonna stab through the head if I ever see him again?" Dean asked sweetly. "We can just see how _he_ likes it." His expression changed to an ugly scowl.

"Oh," Gabriel winced. "What did he do?"

"Sam came back from Hell without a soul. I got death to put his soul back in and put up a wall so Sam wouldn't have to deal with the Hell memories. Darling old Castiel _broke _the wall," Dean gritted.

Gabriele stared at Sam. "And you're not a drooling vegetable?" he asked, sounding impressed.

Sam winced. "Not quite," he hedged.

"Huh?" Gabriel shrugged. "So how did it come out? Hallucinations, brain damage, uncontrollable spastic shaking-?"

"Shut up!" Dean yelled.

"Touchy," Gabriel disapproved. "Well, I suppose you want to know why I brought you here," he sighed.

"It would be nice," Sam admitted.

"It's simple really. Neither of you actually had a child hood or a good father (you actually had a horribly crapy father) so I decided to give you some time with family," Gabriel declared carelessly.

"What!" Dean cried. "You brought us to a whole other _universe_ because you thought we could do with some family bonding?"

"Well, that and Sammy has some secrets he needs to tell," Gabriel deliberated. Sam stiffened. "Let's just say there were sides to Daddy that even little Deano never got to see. He was a much worse man then anyone but baby Sammy realized."

That struck everyone at the table as ominous.

"Don't worry though," Gabriel continued in a much lighter tone. "This version of Daddy is much better then the last one. Very protective, nice man, the whole nine yards. I did a through background check before I chose this universe for you, and we're all good."

Suddenly he turned to John. "Oh, and by the way; that hunt you came here for? Complete bust. I set it up so you would have no choice but to come here and see family again," he grinned.

"You know, you weren't exactly in my good books to start with, but now you're just plain on my hit list," Dean threatened.

"I'm sorry; I'm already dead and happen to be impervious to threats to my life," Gabriel smirked. "I could always throw you in another time loop instead.." he trailed off. "I don't think Sammy would like that very much. In fact, isn't that another thing you never told big brother about?" Gabriel questioned. "You never told him that that was your second Wednesday. He never knew about those six moths you spent without him courtesy of my tricks, did he?"

"What?" Dean gasped.

"Oh yes. And do you know what the funniest thing about the situation was? Sammy thought you were down doing time in Hell, but you were actually up in Heaven the whole time. You couldn't go to Hell because it wasn't time for the demon to collect yet," Gabriel chuckled.

'You _said_ he was in Hell," Sam accused with little real heat. "And besides, Dean doesn't like Heaven either. He says he would get lonely." He was a aware that with the tone he had used he might as well have added "so there!" on to the end, but didn't care.

"And I'm sure he would," Gabriel confirmed. "You need to be up there for him to be actually happy. You know that's actually the oddest case I've ever heard of? I don't think two _guys_ have ever shared a patch of Heaven, let alone two _brothers_."

"Moving on!" Dean interrupted loudly. "When can we go home? We've got Bobby depending on us, and leviathans to take care of; we really don't have time for this little vacation."

'When you get back home no time will have passed," Gabriel tossed out indifferently. "Going home is going to be the whole problem, however," he seemed almost sheepish, and it sent of so many warning bells that Sam's head was ringing.

"What did you do?" he interrogated with a small hint of fear.

"I can't get you back home until specific conditions are met, but I also can't tell you these conditions. So you're just going to have to mosey along until you manage to meet the requirements," Gabriel informed them. "I'm going to leave now before Dean finds a way to murder me even though I'm already dead." He was starting to fade.

"Oh, and Sammy?" his voice echoed back even though he was mostly gone already. "If you don't tell Dean exactly how much all that business with Ruby _wasn't_ your fault, I'm going to find a way to make you. And it won't be pleasant…..for you at least." And then he was completely gone with only a fading cackle to signify that he had ever been there.

Sam and Dean were left alone with a table full of silent and insanely curious relatives. Awesome.

**Let's pretend an angel transported Sam and Dean to a random universe sometime after Castiel died and the leviathans got loose. I don't think Dean would've forgiven Castiel as easily as he did in the series. He was big brother Dean for most of season six and the first part of season seven. **

** What do you think? Like I said, sometimes I feel like the stories write themselves and I have no choice but to put down what they want. When I first had this idea I tried to think of something else to do, but a little part of my brain always seemed to be working on it with this twist. I finally just gave up and wrote what it wanted. **


	6. Chapter 6 Awkward Conversations

**I don't own supernatural**

**Reason for delay; I wrote most of this, then realized it was too long. I only have a little to finish of the rest chapter, so I'll probably update soon. **

**FOR JOHN LOVeRS! I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Souless666: I get where you're coming from with John. I like good John, but I also needed a reason why the universes would be different. I didn't originally plan for this to be an alternate universe, so I painted Sam and Dean like I really picture them. Family is the only constant thing for the Winchesters; the only thing that would make a major difference in the universe. I couldn't change Sam and Dean, so John was the only other choice. :(**

** Anyway, I'm not gonna say it won't play a part in how Sam and Dean act, because obviously it will reflect in how the act towards John, but I don't plan on making it a huge deal. That's why I brought Sam and Dean here; for recovery and time with a good father.**

** On with the story!**

Chapter 6 Awkward Conversations

Dean sighed and went back to grabbing the honey for Sam. He handed the small jar off (receiving a nod in thanks from his baby brother) and grabbed a box of cereal and a bowl for himself.

"So," John began awkwardly as he watched his sons. "Is this hopping universes thing normal for you two?"

"Normal enough," Dean threw back nonchalantly. "I think time traveling is a little more common, but dimension hopping seems to be somewhat of a favorite to the odd angels we associate with."

"So you've done this before?" a man at the head of the table asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Who're you?" he continued when he couldn't place the man in his memory.

"Your grandfather," Hadrian Winchester answered with raised eyebrows.

"Great," Dean declared sarcastically. "I swear you _have_ be better then the last grandfather we had. Well, at least I hope you are; the other one made my 'people to kill' list."

"Dean Jonathon Winchester!" his father reprimanded angrily. "You _do not_ threaten to kill family."

"Hey, if you'd met the man you would've killed him in an instant. He tried to kill Sam!" Dean defended.

"Oh yeah," Sam cut in, "just ignore the fact that your life was on the line too. No, the only thing we have to worry about is that he tried to kill _me_."

"Glad we've got that straight," Dean retorted with a smirk.

"He tried to kill you?" a man who Dean identified as Uncle Danny asked incredulously.

"Oh yeah," Dean grinned as though this were of no real consequence. "He was Mom's dad. Went a little insane when he was brought back to life but Mom stayed dead. He thought he could make some kind of deal; my life and Sam's for Mom's. I don't know what he was thinking. I doubt Mom would've been very pleased to be returned to the living plane only to realize her father had killed her sons."

"What happened to him?" Caleb asked resignedly. He knew people who messed with Dean Winchester's baby brother didn't usually live long. Unless, of course, they were actually human; then their lives just became a whirling vortex of pain.

"Sam shot him," Dean declared like he didn't really care one way or another.

Over twenty pairs of stunned eyes turned to Sam.

"What?" he asked, looking up from where he had been quietly eating his oatmeal. "He wasn't human by that time anyway. He got turned into a monster by this one monster who was the mother of all monsters. Confusing, but the honest truth."

"Let me get this straight," John said incredulously. "You're grandfather somehow came back to life and tried to kill you." He received nods. "Then he got turned into a monster, Sam shot him, and he died again?" More nods.

"I think I need a drink," Caleb groaned. "And I just woke up too. You guys seem to have a way of making me feel the need to drink myself into bloody oblivion. You always get the worst cases, for some reason…I don't even want to _think _about how I was dealing with all of this."

"Oh you weren't," Dean proclaimed as he looked up at Caleb in surprise. "Why're you here, anyway?"

"I live here dipstick. I'm your cousin," Caleb told him distractedly. "Why wasn't I involved in this seemingly giant problem?"

"That would be because you were dead," Dean told him solemnly. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way. Meg killed you."

"Who the hell is this Meg?" Uncle Luke spit the name 'Meg' with such rage that even Dean was impressed.

"I'm guessing you're his father," Dean observed. "Meg is the daughter of Azazel. Nasty little bitch. She doesn't like staying dead either," he frowned.

"Who the hell is Azazel?" John asked confusedly.

"Y'know, it's kinda hilarious to hear you asking about him. You've only been hunting him since I was four," Dean hinted.

"The thing that killed your mother?" John questioned, perking up in his seat.

"Yep," Dean confirmed. "The one and only Azazel, also known as the yellow eyed demon, and a fallen angel, according to Cas. Cas is another angel, in case you're wondering."

"Did we ever kill him?" John inquired.

"After your death _and _Sammy's death, yes," Dean divulged darkly. "I shot him. You actually clawed your way up from Hell to help."

"And Hell is a real place?" Uncle Mark asked into the horrified silence.

The fact that Sam had _di_ed was being temporarily ignored. It was important, but Hell seemed like a bit of a concern too right now.

Besides they probably didn't want to think about Sam dead. Not that Dean did either. It made him want to tear his hair out and throw himself to the ground sobbing, but he was Dean Winchester, and he just didn't do that. So he tended not to think about it.

"Course," Dean chirped. "I've been there, Dad's been there, even Sammy's been there. I don't advise going though; it's not an ideal vacationing spot. Too hot."

"_Why_ were you in Hell?" John inquired with trepidation. He didn't want to think of _any_ version of his babies in Hell. He couldn't care less about himself; his own wellbeing was optional, as long as his children were safe.

"Well," Dean replied, "you sold your soul for me, I sold mine for Sam, and Sam purposely jumped in to save the world from frigging Lucifer."

"How old are you again?" Caleb questioned. It was odd for him to see Dean so calm and nonchalant. Normally Dean was all fire and snarky comments.

"Thirty three," Dean replied. "But if you're counting the years in Hell, seventy three. Time goes differently down there. One month on the surface is ten years down stairs."

"You've been really quiet, Sam," Uncle Calen interrupted before anyone could answer that. "Are you ok?"

Dean was fairly sure Sam was fine. He only wished he could still get worried about simple things like Sam not talking. Sam was always quiet now-a-days. Hell, Jess's death, and everything else they had been through had left their mark on his baby brother.

Sam turned to Dean, seeming to ignore their uncle. "Dean," he whispered. "Lucifer's standing over there, and he brought Michel with him this time. Michel's alive in this time…. it's like a tiny piece of his grace is following me around. I think he could actually hurt me if he tried."

Dean looked to the place Sam had slid his eyes to with alarm. "You think we should draw sigils?" he muttered back.

"We don't have the enochian on our ribs anymore," Sam reminded him.

"Damn," Dean growled. "You think we can trust Cas in this time/universe?" he asked reluctantly. "I don't want to, but I don't know of anyone else who could help."

Sam thought about it for a minute. "Let's just leave it unless something happens," he decided.

They both looked up to find John watching them quizzically. "You ok?" he repeated his oldest brother's question to his youngest son.

"I'm fine," Sam assured him with a fake smile. He had a feeling John could see through his façade, something his own father had never been able to do.

"Right," John drawled, drawing out the 'I' sound. Then his expression turned serious. "What did the angel mean when he said you had a bad father?" he inquired.

"He just…he didn't care," Dean finally settled on with a shrug. "He was never there. If you had asked Sam who his father was before he turned four he would've said I was. His first word was actually Daddy, and he was talking to me. He started talking late, too. I always thought it was because of the trauma of watching Mom's death."

"I remember that," Sam agreed. "All the other toddlers at the day care were getting picked up by their Mommies and Daddies, so it made logical sense that the person who picked me up was _my_ Daddy."

"Only I was the one picking you up," Dean finished with a nod. "It took me forever to get you to stop calling me that in public."

"I made you beg," Sam laughed.

"For twenty minutes!" Dean cried, outraged by this fact even twenty six years later. "'Please Sam, people will think it's weird if you call me Daddy.' 'Don't care,' with your arms crossed and pouting. 'But Dad'll be mad.' To which you responded with a phrase he had taught you," Dean scowled at the end. He had never liked that his three year old brother had known almost every swear word in the book because of their father.

"Yeah…..you weren't particularly happy about that," Sam winced.

"Hell no I wasn't!" Dean exclaimed.

Caleb started chocking on the bacon he was eating because he had tried to laugh. Stupid dick.

Dean was almost jealous that Caleb could have bacon, but he didn't _dare_ get the stuff anywhere near his baby brother.

Hell had left Sam with a horrible aversion to eating anything that even remotely resembled charred human flesh. Another words, he wouldn't eat any meat. The simple smell of it sometimes made his throw up.

So Dean made an effort not to eat anything like that near him. Unfortunately, that consisted of about half of his diet, and he was regulated to eating Sam's rabbit food.

It took two of the kids sitting next to Caleb pounding on the man's back for Caleb to stop chocking.

"Sorry," he squeezed, "that's just so typical of you, Dean. You tell Sam not to do something, and then turn around and do the same thing."

"'Course," Dean grinned. "That's why I'm such an amazing big brother."

"Lead by precept, not example," Uncle Mark agreed with a grin. Dean had the feeling he was going to get along very well with the man.

"Back on topic?" John asked, sounding apprehensive. Dean thought Gabriel might be right about this version of John Winchester; maybe he really did care.

"Dad left alone for long periods of time before Sam turned eight. We would be all alone for a month or two, and have no idea if he was even alive. We ran out of food, sometimes, no matter how hard we tried to ration it. That was a real nightmare," Dean's eyes were dark as he reminisced.

"That's horrible!" John cried, sounding truly shocked.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "And that worst part's that it effected Sam's growth. The first time he was gone long enough for us to run out of food, it was an accident."

"Dad was hunting a werewolf, and it found him before he found it. He ended up in the hospital for about two months. Sam was five, and I had just turned ten. He never bothered to mention that he had kids to anyone at the hospital; didn't even call us to tell us he was held up."

"I honestly thought he was dead. He was only supposed to be gone for that one night," Dean shuddered. "We ran out of food around a week after Dad left, and I'd been giving us less each day. We'd been robbed, too. Thankfully it was while Sam and I were at school and they just took food, but it really put me on edge."

"I finally called Bobby around half a week later after we ran out of food. Before that we just kind of scavenged and nicked things from the gas station when we had to."

"After that Sam never ate like he did before. He was always afraid it would be worse when we didn't have food again. He wouldn't eat much, no matter how much I begged him. He shot up after he went to college because he actually ate there."

Both boys looked so broken and young. Their father was obviously not a topic they wanted to deal with.

"Almost the same thing happened here, didn't it John?" Caleb almost whispered. "Except John hit his head really hard and didn't remember who he was for a month. He had arranged for Bobby to check in every two days, and when Dean said John wasn't home after a week Bobby high tailed it to them as fast as he could."

John nodded. "He was a couple days away, though. I got a baby sitter too; I wouldn't leave my sons alone. I had a cleaning lady check in every time she made her rounds. She went around two or three times a day after they finished school, and stayed with them nights, so it was fine."

"Better then our father," Dean agreed. "But even how he treated us then was better then how he treated us after Sammy found out about the supernatural. Brutal training secession for _hours_ every single day. We got up at four thirty in the morning to train before school, and then had more training after school. He didn't leave us alone anymore because he took us on every hunt."

"But what about all the nasties out there that only prey on kids, or the especially dangerous hunts?" John interrupted.

"What about them?" Sam asked blankly. "We went on _all_ the hunts until I was fifteen. Then Dad started leaving us home again. Started is off alone again with a bang, too," he added grimly.

Dean shuddered at the memory. The panic he had gone through…

"What d'ya mean?" John questioned.

"Six months," was Dean's answer. "No warning. Just woke up to an empty bed and a note saying he'd be back when he'd finished taking care of business."

Both boys grimaced. "That led up to the Flagstaff incident," Sam remembered with a wince.

Dean's face blanked and he pulled Sam closer to him.

"What was the Flagstaff incident?" Uncle Calen asked in concern.

"The second time I was an absolutely _horrible_ big brother," Dean replied darkly.

"No it wasn't," Sam insisted.

Dean didn't agree with him though. He was thoroughly convinced that he had been an absolutely _horrible_ big brother during that time.

"Dad had been gone for almost six months, which was a new record, and Dean was worried. We had long since run out of food, and the mechanic he was working for was threatening to cut him. We were snapping at each other over the smallest things, always on edge. Dean was hustling nights just to get us by already because my school was being especially demanding when they wanted me to participate in _every_ event."

"I was having trouble with the other kids too. I always have trouble with the other kids, of course, but it was way worse in that town," Sam shuddered and Dean pulled him closer still, frowning as he was told this for the first time.

"I…I guess I kind of broke. I had always depended on Dean with the bullies before, but he was worried about more important things and I didn't want to bother him. The other kids saw that Dad was gone and Dean was never home and they used it to taunt me. It took five and a half months, but I broke and ran off."

Dean bit his lip worriedly. He knew how hard it was to break Sam. His baby brother was one of the strongest people he knew. Hell, even _Lucifer _hadn't broken Sam. So what had these kids done to him that was so bad? Overwhelming rage filled him, and he resolved to ask Sam later.

John's quick intake of breath was enough proof that his had never happened here.

"I was alone for two weeks. I honestly never thought about how Dean felt during that time, which was undeniably probably one of the most selfish things I've ever done. Right up there with leaving for Stanford, actually," he added as an afterthought.

"Uh-uh," Dean disagreed. "Not if they _broke _you, Sam. I know how much it takes to break you, and I don't even want to _think_ about what those kids must have done to you."

Sam shrugged. "Lucifer and Michel did," he shot back.

"And how long did that take them?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sam mumbled something and looked away.

"That's what I thought," Dean said smugly.

"You found him, didn't you?" John asked worriedly.

"Course," Dean assured him. "After two weeks."

Everyone around the table winced.

"But the worst," Dean decided thoughtfully, "was the way Dad talked to Sam. When we were training he only mentioned the bad things we did; never the good. It worked fine with me because I always liked knowing _exactly_ what I'd done wrong so I could fix it. It didn't work so well with Sam. You have to encourage Sam and tell him he's doing a couple things right too, or he feels like he's no good and shouldn't even try."

"It was worse then that, though. Dad always compared Sam to me. Sam isn't me. We're good at different things. We complement each other, and that's why we work so well together."

"Dad didn't understand that. With him it was all, 'by the time Dean was your age, he could shoot all the cans off the fence no problem' or 'by the time Dean was your age he didn't care about school anymore,' or ' by the time Dean was your age he could run around the block in ten seconds'. Sam's better with a knife then he is with a gun, his love of school was what made him so great at research, and he was shorter then I was so running was harder for him," Dean informed then.

"And it wasn't like Sam wasn't trying. He _did_ try, but no matter _what_ he did it was never good enough. If Sam got his personal best in any area of training he wasn't compliment and told he had done a good job, he was told he could've done it a little better."

Dean frowned as he realized this for the first time. When it had actually happened that wasn't what he had thought. Of course, back then he had also thought his father actually _cared_ about Sam. He guessed he could chalk both faults up to being too naive and trusting.

"So I guess bad doesn't really cover it," he said darkly. "He was neglectful and emotionally abusive, and that's only what I know. He was obviously somewhat different with Sam."

Sam appeared to be trying to disappear.

"Well, uh, I gotta get to work," Uncle Mark interrupted the awkward and horrified silence that followed Dean's deduction.

Everyone left after that, muttering random excuses of their own.

Dean didn't mind, and Sam _certainly_ didn't either. Dean actually knew his baby brother was relived there weren't as many people to stare at him.

John seemed to be in shock, sitting at the table with his head in his hands and a heartbroken expression. Dean guessed he was feeling pretty destroyed right now. He knew he would've if he was told a different version of him had abused his baby brother.

Dean used their father's distraction to do a disappearing act of his own. He had a talk he needed to have with his baby brother.

**So there it is.**

**John lovers are going to hate me. sigh. Just FYI, though, this version of John isn't going to change. He's going to be just like he was with his versions of Sam and Dean. He might even be more affectionate with them because their father was so horrible. I don't have everything worked out yet.**

**I'm listening to "Solitude" by evanescence. I _r_eally love that band. She looks a bit goth, but their songs are a bit goth, so I guess it fits.**

**Thoughts?**


	7. Chapter 7 Time to Think

**Wow, that took a lot longer than I thought it was going to! It was because the second part was so awkward for me to write. It wasn't like I could just say something like "Dean found out about the welts and freaked" or something like that. I had to actually write the scene.**

**So if that scene if going to offend anyone, it's after the first pagebreak.**

Chapter 7 Time to Think

John Winchester was a horrified man.

What the _hell_ had the other version of him done to his boys? _How_ could the man do such things? How was John going to fix it?

Because not fixing it was _not_ an option. The broken looks on his boys' faces had decided that for him.

So how to fix it?

It wasn't like he could just come on with the hugs and the cuddles. It would be extremely awkward, and John wasn't like that even with his own versions of his sons.

He was stern, but at least _his_ sons knew he loved them.

So he would have to _show_ these two that he loved them. Which meant that hugging was going to have to come into the picture somewhere. Ugh.

Oh well. If that was what it took for his sons to understand that _he_ wasn't like their version (that their version was a sick man who obviously didn't know anything about his own children and nothing he said should ever be considered a truth) then he would sit Sammy on his lap and hold Dean to side all day long.

But for now that would just make all of them uncomfortable.

So he would start small. He would be there when his boys needed him. He would make sure they knew they could always come to him. He wouldn't push training. He wouldn't push _anything_.

He would take it easy and slow.

But by the time he was done, his baby boys would _not_ have self esteem problems anymore (because he could already tell they had them now).

When he was done with them, they would be unrecognizable. In a good way, of course.

_**Supernatural**_

"So," Dean began as he set Sam back down on their bed. "How was Dad worse for you?"

Sam bit his lip. What was he supposed to do? Sure, Dean didn't idolize their father anymore, but still….

"Sam?" Dean asked again.

"I-it's nothing," Sam hedged, looking away.

"No it isn't. Not if _Gabriel_ of all people thought it was worth mentioning," Dean declared. "I get the feeling he's a bit of a family guy. He seemed to really want his own family at peace, so why would he try to purposely disrupt other families with lies?"

"Dean-" Dean interrupted him.

"Don't lie to me," he rebuked sharply.

Sam went red and fixed his eyes on the floor. How did Dean _always_ know?

"He-he was just a little harder on me," Sam tried.

"Nuh-uh," Dean remained stubborn. "I knew about that. Gabriel said this was something that I didn't know about at all."

Sam didn't want to tell. For one thing it was embarrassing. For another thing, he was pretty sure it was a fairly normal punishment. Maybe not to the extent his father took it to, but he knew some of his many and varied classmates had been well acquainted with their father's belt. He even knew a few that boasted that their fathers switched them. To his mind that wasn't something one really should be boasting about, but to each their own.

And he accidentally started starting babbling this out loud without thinking. "It wasn't that bad," he insisted. "I knew other boys who bragged that their dads took a belt to them when the acted up-" That's when he caught himself, throwing a hand over his mouth before he said something even more damaging.

He knew it was too late, however, when he saw Dean go absolutely still. His brother then lunged forward and pushed Sam back on the bed. He was surprisingly gentle, considering the fury Sam saw on his face.

Sam struggled to sit back up, but Dean had size and weight over him now, and he was practically helpless. How had he done things back when he was this small? It had been so long that he didn't really remember anymore.

Dean rolled him onto is stomach and unceremoniously took down his pants.

Sam stiffened as memories of two certain angles who took down his pants flooded him, but quickly pushed them away in favor of a much more troubling issue.

Embarrassment because of his state of undress was not a problem; he and Dean saw each other naked all the time. He was _far_ more mortified for Dean to see the welts decorating his backside.

"Stop it Dean!" Sam cried.

Surprisingly, Dean complied. Sam tried to pull his pants back up and roll over, but Dean stopped him with a hand in the middle of his shoulder blades.

"_Dad_ did this to you?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"He-,I," Sam stuttered. "It was after Flagstaff," he finally blurted, as though that fixed everything.

"But I didn't let you alone for _weeks_ after that," Dean puzzled. Enlightenment dawned. "He did this while I was out getting groceries, didn't he?" he realized.

Sam dropped his head into the pillow below him, debating whether or not to lie.

"Don't even think about it," Dean warned. His voice was far less aggressive now, however.

Stupid Dean, and his stupid ability to tell when Sam was about to lie. And then he had to go and make Sam feel _bad_ for thinking about lying to him! It just wasn't fair.

"Fine," Sam affirmed, lifting his head out of the pillow. "Yes, he did."

"What the hell did he use on you?" Dean inquired in horror. His fingers ghosted softly over the welts, which Sam would've found creepy if Dean had been anyone else.

"His belt," Sam answered flatly. He twisted around a little so he could see what Dean was looking it.

It wasn't a pretty sight. It was never a pretty sight, but this was worse then he remembered. His whole butt was literally black and blue with raised welts just to add decoration.

"These are from the belt," Sam explained, gesturing to the wider marks. They were bigger then the welts from the switch, but less raised.

"And the rest?" Dean queried with trepidation.

Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head back into the pillow. "A switch." He mumbled. "He was really mad about how I ran off. He was never quite this bad, before or after."

"He did this other times?" Dean asked in horrified anger.

Sam was silent.

"Wait a second…he did this while I was out, right?" Dean confirmed. Anyone who had_ ever_ called Dean stupid was a complete idiot.

Sam pushed his face farther into the pillow, but nodded.

"Did he do it any other time I was out?"

Sam's continued muteness was answer enough.

"How often?" Dean questioned lividly. Sam felt like he was in the Spanish inquisition. "Sam!" Dean insisted.

"'vry'tim'go'mor'hour," Sam rushed out. It felt like the words were burning his tongue.

"…What?" was Deans eloquent reply.

Sam took a deep breath. "Every time you went out for more than an hour," he repeated more slowly.

Dean's jaw dropped. "And you never felt the need to tell me this…..why?" he demanded.

"He was your hero," Sam whispered. "I couldn't take that from you. It's so hard for us to find anyone we can depend on that I didn't want to drive anyone away."

"We only depend on them because we're sure they won't hurt either of us!" Dean nearly yelled. "If Dad hurt you then he wasn't trustworthy anymore. From the second he touched you he should've been on my hit list."

Sam scrambled for a come back (coming up with nothing more than "he didn't hurt me" which would have been a total lie) but it turned out he didn't need one because the door flew open at that moment.

_**Supernatural**_

Sam yelled and scrambled for a blanket, and Dean jumped about five feet in the air.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" he snarled at their father.

"It's never been a problem before," John replied with raised eyebrows. "Why is it now?"

"We're older now," Sam put in before Dean could say anything. "It just feels odd."

"Uh-hu," John said incredulously.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Dean practically spit.

John looked startled. "Well, I came to tell you that you're free to do whatever you like for now, but it's family night tonight, and you're expected to be there. Is there a reason you're taking that tone with me?" he added mildly.

Dean went to snarl out an answer (probably the truth) but Sam caught his hand and gave him puppy eyes.

Damn Sam and his unnatural ability to control Dean with a single look. The kid didn't even have to say a word! It just wasn't fair.

"No, Dean, please," he pleaded. Like he really needed to beg when he was giving Dean those eyes.

"Is something wrong?" John inquired with concern.

Dean studied him. There was something about, some kind of worry lingering behind his casual posture, maybe, that had Dean thinking twice before he answered.

It wouldn't be right to burden a man who had probably never intentionally hurt his son with this, so Dean decided not to say anything. He also thought it was time to clam down, before he said something he would regret.

Besides, Sam most certainly wouldn't be comfortable showing John the marks, and Dean wasn't going to force him into showing anyone unless they got infected.

He would have to hear how his baby brother kept that from happening the first time around, because those marks looked pretty bad.

That didn't mean he wouldn't be keeping a close eye on the man. He had a better chance of catching their father if John tried something now than he would if he told the man he knew what his counterpart had done to his baby brother. He could be sneaky if he wanted to.

"No, I'm sorry. I was just having a talk with Sammy about our version of you, and it got out of hand. I didn't mean to snap. We'll be down when they want us. What time did you say again?" he asked much more politely.

"Around four thirty," John informed them. "Do you two need anything?"

"No, we'll be fine in here until lunch," Dean assured.

"Ok," John said uncertainly. "Come find me if you need anything."

"We will," Dean assured. He waited until their father left the room and shut the door behind him to finish the sentence. "Not."

"So how do you treat these things?" he asked his little brother.

Sam shrugged. "Antiseptic. Sometimes a bit of lotion helps. It makes them more….flexible? Not as likely to break and bleed, anyway."

Dean was horrified at the ease with which _his_ Sammy was with treating these things. It was official; he was never leaving his little brother alone again.

Dean treated the wounds as well as he could. It wasn't very good in his opinion, but Sam said it was better than he had ever managed to do himself.

Sam decided to become chatty again while Dean was performing this task.

"That's why I was so happy about leaving, you know," he stated somewhat sleepily.

"These?" Dean inquired, just for conformation as his fingers ghosted over the marks their father had left.

"Yeah," Sam verified. "He didn't think switching my butt was working anymore. He said he was either gonna buy a whip, or take the switch to my back. I was scared, Dean. That why I left without seeing you. I was just _running_," Sam explained tiredly.

Dean was quiet for a second, trying to digest that. He had been so hurt that day to get home from a night at the bar and find Sam gone.

There had been nothing. No trace that his baby brother had ever even existed. Sam hadn't even left him a note.

"He went out to cut the switch, and I _ran_, Dean. I was so scared," Sam repeated. "I didn't even stop to think. I just grabbed my stuff and took off."

"What about the huge fight I heard about from both of you?" Dean questioned.

"All a lie. He didn't want you to know what he did, and I didn't want to ruin your trust in yet another person. We just stuck with the first thing you would believe," Sam answered. "I'm sorry," he added.

"God, Sammy. Never again. I don't want any more lying. No more hiding things. No more half truths. If you're hurt, I want to know who did it, you understand me?" Dean half ordered.

Commanding was not normally the way you went with Sam, Dean was starting to think it was about time he picked up his role as the closest thing to a father Sam had ever had. He knew how to handle his little boy before Sammy left for Stanford, and Sam was just an older version of that same child.

Dean needed time to think about this, and Sam was yawning. Dean himself wasn't tired, but he remembered his baby brother being exhausted from all the extra training their father piled on him after flagstaff.

"Take a nap," he gave another half almost command as Sam started rubbing his eyes to try and keep them open.

Sammy was so cute like that. Little Tiger looked like a four year old when he was sleepy, and it was so freaking adorab- what was he thinking! Dean Winchester does _not_ think anything is cute.

Glancing back at his baby brother, who was now pouting at the idea of taking a nap, (though that might be because of the nightmares….) he decided Sammy was the one exception. There was just no way his brother could be called anything _but_ cute right now. Unless, of course, you chose an even girlier adjective.

Why the hell was he thinking about adjectives anyway? How did he even still remember what an adjective _was_? It wasn't like he paid much attention in school.

Maybe it was something he had helped Sam learn? He shrugged.

Sam complied with very little more argument, and Dean was left in peace.

It was time to think.

**Done!**

**What do people think? Again, most of the chapter is not for John lovers, but the first part probably won't offend them. Sorry people!**

**Odd random things! I now own all six seasons of Supernatural on DVD! This made me very happy.**

**An example of how weird my family is, and how much I love it! We were watching the episode "Crossroad Blues" (I think that's what it's called; it's the one where the hear about hell hounds for the first time) and our cat jumped up on my mom's chair. **

**Now, I must say that we've had this cat since he was so small that we had to bottle feed him. He thinks he's a human, and tries to eat with his hands. He also thinks my mother is his mother too. My mom doesn't mind in the slightest, and has adopted him as her baby.**

**So were watching the part of the episode where the dogs go after the guy who made a deal for his wife's life, and there's all this barking going on; really action filled scene, you know?**

**Them my mom starts _cooing_ in the background to our cat. She's all "That's a bad doggy, yes it is. It's not a bad kitty; no it's a bad doggy. You're not a bad doggy. No you're not. You're a good kitty, aren't you?"**

**And my dad and I (instead of going "Shut up we're trying to watch something here!" like normal people) watch her more closely than we're watching the TV. I can honestly say it was the most amusing part of the whole night, and I'm still giggling a little just writing about it. **

**Listening to "My Immortal" by evanescence. Has anyone else ever noticed how this must have been almost_ exactly_ what Dean was thinking when Sam left for Stanford? I mean, there's almost no lyrics that don't really fit!**

**So, thoughts?**


	8. Chapter 8 Family Night

**I don't own supernatural. I also don't own the songs mentioned this chapter. They are "You Found Me" by The Fray, "Running Up that Hill" by Placebo, and "My Home" by Thousand Foot Krutch. **

Chapter 8 Family Night

The rest of the day was uneventful. Lunch was almost as awkward as breakfast had been, but at least it was over quickly.

After the uncomfortable meal concluded, Sam and Dean retreated to their room until four thirty.

At four thirty they tramped down the stairs and cautiously entered the living room.

Then it was announced that they were going to play charades, and Sam started grinning.

He _loved_ charades. It had always been his favorite game as a child, but he hadn't enjoyed it as much in college.

Maybe that was because the other college kids didn't play it the same way he always had, though.

The Winchesters didn't play acting out famous people, objects, or animals, but with scenes from their own lives.

If even _one_ person in the room didn't recognize the scene, then the person acting it out had to bring other people up and act out the full scene with words.

The worst part was that the actor had to play the same person they had been imitating to begin with.

It led to some very funny scenes with Dean pretending to be Sam, and Sam playing John, and John playing Dean just for the fun of it.

They didn't play the game often, but when they did they nearly always ended up collapsing with laughter half way through a scene.

It really helped in the whole getting to know each other department. Maybe that's why their father had always enjoyed playing it….

The funniest time had been when Sam had secretly video taped the whole thing and replayed it for his family later. He didn't play it for anyone else because he did some pretty embarrassing things during the game too; he didn't want _that_ all over the hunting world.

Sam could only hope that this game would be the same.

He quietly set his ipod (how did that manage to come with them?) on video and arranged it so it would be able to tape everything.

"Who wants to go first?" Calen asked, eyes sparkling.

"Oh, oh, pick me!" Dean cried, waving his arm around in the air.

Sam looked at him with amusement. Dean always had a way of putting people at ease, even if it meant making himself look like an idiot.

"Go 'head," Mark encouraged, obviously amused.

Dean ran into the middle of the room as everyone else settled into chairs.

"Is it the same rules we always played by?" he asked his father.

"Yeah," John grinned. "You didn't think _I _was imaginative enough to come up with something like this, did you?"

"You never know," Dean trailed off.

He extended his arm and started rubbing an imaginary something in mid air.

Sam knew immediately who he was playing. It was all given away by Dean's expression; an attempt to look worshipfully awed.

"Really?" he groaned. "Like, _really_ really, Dean?"

Dean grinned.

"You can tell what he's doing already?" James questioned in surprise.

"Yeah," Sam moaned. "You're going to make me act this out with you, aren't you?" he inquired of Dean.

"Of course," Dean grinned.

"This is going to be good, isn't it?" Caleb added in his two cents.

"Yes," Dean answered at the same time as Sam said, "Depends what you're definition of 'good' is."

"It's going to be very good," Caleb concluded.

Dean strode over to the couch and dragged Sam up.

"You just stand there and play yourself. Don't forget to look all uncomfortable and freaked out. And don't miss the stuttering; that was the best part," Dean instructed.

"Dad, you can be me," he informed their father as though this was an amazing privilege. Then he dragged their father away to explain his part.

When Dean released him, John stumbled back to the couch, barely containing his laughter.

"I'm glad _someone_ finds this amusing," Sam huffed. "That girl was," he whistled.

"I can't believe she actually-" John broke off, practically giggling.

Yes, this was a _very _different version of their father.

"Ok, ok…calm," John coached himself. He sat back down on the couch and pretended to be holding a remote.

Sam sat at a "table" (also read as "on the floor") and grabbed a random book to pretend to be reading.

Dean "knocked" on the "door" (also read as "mid air") and both John and Sam looked up.

John moved around to the side of the "bed", a gun appearing in his hands. It was a real gun, too, since he never went anywhere without one.

Sam got up and "opened" the "door" a little before "leaning" on it.

Dean took a deep almost hyperventilation breath and stared at Sam with a look of open mouthed awe before making a few almost sobbing noises.

John looked around Sam with a "what the hell" look on his face.

"You ok, lady?" Sam asked.

Most of the room burst out laughing as they realized Dean was playing a girl. It was a ridiculous thought.

Caleb nearly rolled off the couch, but none of the three actors broke character.

"Sam!" Dean gasped in a breathy voice. "Is it really you?" Dean continued.

Sam looked back towards John with a "huh?" expression.

Dean moved forward to press his hand against Sam's chest.

John and Caleb were having trouble not cracking up at the simple sight, but everyone else was riveted to the scene with fascination.

Sam looked down at Dean's hand with confused alarm.

"And you're so firm!" Dean exclaimed.

Darren was the first to give in to silent laughter at that sentence.

"U-uh," Sam stuttered, staring at Dean as though he had gone insane. "Do I know you?"

At this question, even more people gave in to silent mirth. Sam looked so bewildered and freaked out that it was a little pathetic and a lot funny.

"No," Dean admitted, withdrawing his hand. "But I know you! You're Sam Winchester-"

Sam was looking more and more alarmed.

Dean looked towards John. "And you're….not what I pictured," Dean finished with an odd look on his face.

John did his best to look confused through his ever growing mirth.

"I'm Becky," Dean declared, turning back to Sam.

He stalked passed his brother and into the room while saying, "I read all about you guys, and I've even written a few…." He shivered in pleasure. "Anyway," he got back on track. "Mr. edland told me where you were."

"Chuck?" John asked, rising from the couch.

Sam closed the "door" before Dean continued.

"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels," Dean added, looking towards the ceiling.

Sam and John exchanged look as Dean put in, "Nice change up to the mythology, by the way; the demon stuff was getting kinda old-"

He had barely finished when Sam was talking again. "Right, but ah, just, um, what's the message?" he asked.

John crossed his arms and watched on.

"He had a vision," Dean proclaimed. "The Michel sword is on earth. The angels lost it," he said, punctuating each word with his hand.

"The Michel sword?" John cut in.

"Becky, does he know where it is?" Sam questioned, his face serious.

"In a castle," Dean informed him immediately. "On a hill made of forty two dogs," he finished with a slightly crazed expression.

"Forty two _dogs_," John confirmed, his face clearly showing how sane he thought "Becky" was.

"Are you sure you got that right," Sam asked gently.

"It doesn't make sense," Dean agreed almost before Sam fell silent. "But that's what he said. I memorized every word," Dean reached out and planted his hand on Sam's chest again. He closed his eyes reverently and started rubbing. "For you."

By this time there wasn't one person there who wasn't silently laughing, some going as far as tears rolling down their faces as they rolled around.

"Um," Sam tried. He made a 'help me' face towards John, but was ignored. "Becky, uh, could you, could you quit touching me?" he requested, looking supremely uncomfortable.

"No," Dean denied immediately, keeping his eyes closed as he kept rubbing Sam.

The room reached a whole new pitch of mirth as the scene finished, and everyone was free to laugh out loud.

John started rolling around on the ground, holding his stomach as he gasped for breath, and Dean chuckled.

Sam watched them all in amazement.

It had _not_ been funny. It had freaked him out that some random girl was being all touchy feely with him.

"I don't think anyone can top that," Danny grinned.

"Did that _really_ happen?" Adrian choked.

"Yep," Dean grinned. "You should've seen his face the first time around. It was like 'oh-my-God-this-random-girl-is-touching-me-and-she-won't-stop!'."

The room exploded in laughter again.

"What would you do if some creepy girl started touching you like that?" Sam demanded.

"I would've taken advantage of it," Dean grinned. "She practically worshiped you."

"Worshiped me a bit too much," Sam said bitterly. He definitely _hadn't _enjoyed being tied to a bed without pants.

"Yeah, she was a creepy stalker," Dean agreed.

They moved back to their seats, and Opal took their places.

The rest of the scenes were acted out and induced glee, but not quite to the amount Dean had managed to produce.

That was until John insisted they reenact Sam's first word. Apparently he had been direly in need of a nap (which meant he had to sit there pouting when they acted it out).

John played himself, Caleb played Bobby, and Dean played himself.

John and Caleb staged a huge argument over which gun was best for icing a werewolf.

There wasn't really any difference, but Sam thought maybe his dad and Bobby just enjoyed arguing.

They were not screaming entirely appropriate things either, so they kept having to "bleep" things.

Finally John yelled, "Screw you Singer!" and Sam tugged at Dean's sleeve.

"De," he talked for the first time, though John and Caleb were so busy "arguing" that they didn't notice. "What scew ou me?" Sam continued. He _hated_ having to play a baby.

Dean was fluent in Sammy from the moment Sam first opened his mouth, so he knew exactly what Sam meant.

He cocked his head to the side in thought for a few seconds, then shrugged. "I du'know, Sammy. Let's ask Daddy," Dean suggested.

He stood and hoisted Sam up with him before "toddling" over to John.

"Daddy?" he inquired, tugging at his father's sleeve like Sam had.

"Sammy wants to know what 'screw you' means, and I don't know," he informed John when he got the man's attention.

John's face had the rest of the room collapsing again.

"How did you even know what he was saying?" Violet asked.

"Are you kidding?" John questioned with raised eyebrows. "Dean spoke 'Sammy' from Sam's first _gurgle_; deciphering _words_ was a whole hell of a lot easier."

Sam was last to go. He decided he was tired of being the butt of the scenes for today, so he carefully picked through his memories for a time that Dean looked stupid.

He grinned as he finally settled on the time he and Dean went to an alternate universe.

He stood in the middle of the room and adopted the expression he had sported upon finding out Ruby was his wife there. He knew Dean would recognize, because it was very similar to the one he wore around Becky, but with a touch of fear.

"Oh come _on_," Dean snorted. "Really?"

The scene was acted out by him, Dean, and Violet took the place of Genevieve. They started with, "Wait; you and Ruby," and ended with, "I should figure out her name," excluding the kiss because they were related to everyone and that was just wrong.

"That is a story you're going to have to tell in full sometime," Calen laughed.

"Now for the best part," Liam proclaimed with an evil looking grin.

"Karaoke," Aiden and Hayden smirked together.

The songs were many and varied. They ranged from Avril Lavgine to Our Lady Peace to some rapper Sam had never heard of before.

How they got so much karaoke music, Sam couldn't imagine. Maybe it was because they had been doing this for so long?

John, Dean, and Sam waited to go last. It was awkward for them to sing

in front of anyone, so they were trying to stall their way out of going at all.

Needless to say, that didn't work.

John was forced up first.

He had no idea what he was doing on stage, Sam noted. He had never seen this side of his father, and it was interesting to see the man honest to God nervous.

Sam was stunned when he heard the music. It couldn't be.

_He_ had written that song. Under a different name, granted, but he had still written it. Four years into this world's future.

He could only guess this was Gabriel's work, because how else would his father know "You Found Me"?

His dad carried the song well. He could sing much better than he had ever let on to Sam or Dean.

Then again, Sam knew both he and Dean could sing a lot better than they let on too.

Dean was next.

"Heaps up," Sam called, throwing his ipod to his brother.

Dean caught it with a grin. "Thanks," he said.

Sam nodded.

Dean scrolled through Sam's list of songs, and came across one that he obviously hadn't expected to be there. Sam could tell because his big brother's face betrayed his surprise.

Dean looked conflicted for a second, then shrugged and set the little device playing.

It was probably another thing to "thank" Gabriel for.

_It doesn't_ _hurt me_

Sam didn't recognize the song at all.

_You wanna feel how it feels_

_You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me_

_You wanna hear about the deal I'm making_

That was when Sam figured out why Dean had been so stunned to see this particular song.

Sam always had odd things on his ipod, but this was a song that he hadn't heard because it was _Dean's_ song.

It seemed he wasn't the only person in the family to dabble in song writing.

_You_

_You and me_

_And if I only could, make a deal with God_

_And get him to swap our places_

Sam was eternally glad Dean had never met God and tried to convince him to swap Sam out of Hell and put Dean in.

It had saved him the trouble of getting God to swap them back.

_Be runnin' up that road_

_Be runnin' up that hill_

_Be runnin' up that building_

_If I only could_

_You don't wanna hurt me_

_But s_ee_ how deep the bullet lies_

That part was probably about Lisa. Sam could only imagine her tiptoeing around Dean, trying not to hurt him and only succeeding in hurting him more by reminding him that he was fragile because _his Sammy _(Dean seemed to like referring to him as such) was in Hell.

_Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder_

Sam rolled his eyes at that. It was just like Dean to believe that he was sabotaging someone's family just by being there.

Dean didn't often realize how much of a help he could be.

_And there's a thunder in our hearts, baby_

Sam smirked. He could _mor_e than see Dean and Lisa having that effect on each other.

_There's so much hate for the ones we love_

Very true; a lot of people hated everything even remotely connected to Winchesters. Not to mention monsters…

_Tell me we both matter, don't we?_

That part was talking about Sam again. They both _definitely_ mattered, just not to the people (things) they wanted to care.

_You_

_You and me_

_You and me won't be unhappy_

They were _always_ unhappy though. Not many good things happened to them.

Maybe Dean was talking about his ideal heaven?

_If I only could, make a deal with God_

_And get him to swap out places_

_Be runnin' up that road_

_Be runnin' up that hill_

_Be runnin' up that building_

_If I only could_

_Come on baby_

_Come on come on darling_

_Let me steal this moment from you now_

_Come on angel_

_Come on come on darling_

_Let's exchange this experience_

Sam was startled that Dean would refer to him that way. The older boy kept pet names to a minimum in public.

It wasn't always that way, though. When they were younger Dean had no problems calling him anything from Sweetheart to Baby-Face (odd, but so was Dean) wherever they were.

Sam supposed imagining all the horrors he was going through in Hell brought out the super-mega-big-brother-over-protectiveness for Dean.

Incidentally, this also seemed to bring out the side that still saw Sam as the baby Dean had taught the alphabet to (the side that Sam wasn't supposed to know Dean had) and the nicknames.

Half of them were used to make fun of him (Baby-Face), but the other half (Angel) Dean actually meant.

Sam wondered if Dean had some kind of obsession with nicknames. Sam couldn't even _remember_ all the random things Dean had called him over the years, but Dean seemed to relish coming up with something new when he felt things were getting boring.

_Oh oh oh_

_If I only could, make a deal with God_

_Get him to swap our places_

_Be runnin' up that road_

_Be runnin' up that hill_

_With no problems_

_And if I only could make a deal with God_

_And Get him to swap our places_

_Be runnin' up that road_

_Be runn' up that hill_

_With no problems_

_If I only could be runnin' up that hill_

Dean finished by repeating the last line several times.

Sam thought it was a bit "emo" for Dean's normal style, but when Dean was in Hell Sam turned into a dude who drank way too much and chugged demon blood. He couldn't be a pot and still call the kettle black.

Besides, Sam loved the song, and he knew music tended to come out how _it_ wanted to, not how _you_ wanted it to.

Sam wrote plenty of rock songs, and he liked them even thought he normally couldn't stand that type of music.

Music was just funny like that.

Sam found he had been allowing his thoughts to wander for too long, because the next thing he knew he was up on the stage.

And he didn't have the slightest idea of what he was going to sing.

Great.

_**Supernatural**_

Dean watched as his little brother climbed up on the stage.

He couldn't help but notice that Sam seemed much more comfortable up there than he or their father had. Maybe Sam had done this before?

Dean himself _wrote_ music, but he had never played it before or sang in front of people.

For a few seconds, Sam looked undecided. His face went from distaste to fondness to uncertainty as he scrolled through the list. He looked down at Dean, and his face took a determined tinge.

Dean thought maybe he wasn't the only one singing an original composition today.

The music started, and Dean almost reconsidered. This wasn't what Sam normally played on the radio when he was driving.

_This place is many things_

_But I'd never call it home_

It wasn't Sam's voice that issued from his baby brother's mouth.

Dean knew every pitch Sam's voice could ever even _possibly_ reach, and the pitch of the song wasn't one of them.

Dean had heard of people who could do things like that. What were they called? Impersonators, impressive, impressionists! That was it!

Was Sam an impressionist, and if so, why had he never told Dean?

_It's just a building in a city everywhere I go_

Dean could sympathize with that. It did seem like they never really had a home.

They were always on the road to _somewhere_, and if they did stay in one place for longer than a week there was always an air of impermanence

_This place is many things_

_But I can't call it home_

_Home is the place you are and I just wanna let you know_

Sam had written a song alright. A song about what Dean meant to him, if Dean knew anything about his baby brother.

Normally Dean would've scoffed at someone doing such a mushy thing, but looking at his baby brother, the one he had practically _raised,_ and realizing how much he meant to the younger boy erased all thoughts of doing any such thing.

_That I've done I few things I wasn't proud of_

Of course he had; everyone had done things they weren't proud of.

If Dean had to guess, he would probably say that this was written some time close to the whole demon blood blow out (note to self; ask Sam what Gabriel meant about that not being his fault) and it kind of made him feel really low to know that Sam still held Dean in such high regard after everything he had said to his baby brother at that time.

Dean knew he hadn't exactly been fair about that. So it was ok for him to torture people in Hell and break the first seal, but it wasn't ok for Sam to get addicted to something while he was dead and try to do the world a favor even when he was extremely high?

No, things didn't work that way. Dean did things that Sam said not to every day. He could name several times when he had let Sam down or broken a promise to him (cough cough, Stanford and Amy cough cough) but Sam lets him down and Dean jumps on it; holds it above his head for _months_.

It just wasn't fair to Sam.

And it wasn't like he had never trusted someone he shouldn't have.

_Might've said a few things that hurt you_

Well, _duh_. They were brothers; they had arguments just like anyone else. Sam hurt him, and he knew sometimes he hurt his Sammy.

_But you're still the only one that fills me up_

_And every night spent alone was worth it_

_You are my home_

_You are my everything _

_When I feel so alone_

Dean almost couldn't believe the level of devotion Sam still had after all they had gone through.

Dean hadn't exactly been a very good big brother lately. First he didn't pay enough attention to Sam's wall cracking (he just wanted to believe everything was fine for once) and then he was too caught up in his own grief over Bobby, snapping at Sammy and pushing him away.

But Sam was still there, and obviously still thought the world of Dean, no matter what the older boy had done.

It was a little humbling.

_You are my home_

_You are my shelter _

_When all my hope is gone_

Music played for a couple seconds and took the time to look around at all their relatives.

Their expressions ranged from confusion at hearing the second new song of the night, to nearly in tears from the emotion Sam put into his words.

Sam was always good at bringing out people's emotions.

_And I've seen many things_

Got that right he had!

_But they don't look like home_

_They're just the bright lights from a city glowing all night long_

Lots and lots of cities, actually. They had definitely seen lots of cities….

_And I've seen many faces _

Also very true. Sam probably saw more people in a month than most people did in all their lives.

It came with moving around so much.

It was also normally accompanied by a sense of detachment from all of them because they're nothing like you and never will be.

_But they all look the same_

They did tend to blend together after awhile. A bunch of Mary-sue and John Does.

_Home is the place you are and I just wanna let you know_

_That I've done a few things I wasn't proud of_

_Might've said a few things that hurt_

_But you're still the only one that fills me up_

_And all th_e tears that we've shared_ was worth it_

Lots and lots of those in Sam's life too. Sammy just wasn't born to be happy. The universe was adverse to him ever being completely satisfied.

They had had a sucky childhood, leading into troubled teens, a brief stint at Stanford without Big Brother to take care of him, and several deaths as adults.

They just weren't _m_eant to be happy.

_You are my home_

_You are my everything_

_When I feel so alone_

_You are my heart_

_You are the one_

_When it all comes undone_

_When it all comes undone_

_When it all comes undone_

_When it all comes undone_

_When it all comes undone_

It came undone a lot. Dad. Ellen. Jo. Ash. Pamela. Pastor Jim. Caleb. Hell, even Bobby.

_You are my home _

_you are my everything _

_when I feel so alone_

_you are my home_

_you are my shelter_

_when all my hope is gone_

_you are my home_

_you are my everything_

_when I feel so alone_

_you are my heart_

_you are the one_

_when it all comes undone_

Sam ground to a stop.

Wow. That was…..very emotionally charged, very stirring, and just so very _Sam_.

And to know that Sam _still_ viewed him as home, after everything they had gone through, was just mind blowing.

The room was quiet for a few more seconds before people burst into applause.

They had done the same for everyone else (including Dean) but Dean noticed they were somewhat more enthusiastic about the amount of emotion he and Sam had put in.

Sam had closed his eyes at some time during the song, but now they popped open and his face went red.

He scurried off the stage as fast as he could and latched onto Dean.

It had been a long time since Sam latched onto him; tried to hide behind him. Dean didn't mind, though. He liked the feeling of Sam _needing_ him.

"Well, that's it for tonight. Time for bed," Hadrian declared.

The rest of the family agreed and hurried off to their respective rooms.

John put a hand each on Sam and Dean's shoulders.

"Let's go, boys," he said quietly.

His hand was a weight, but not a pressure on the back of their necks as he guided them up the stairs.

He waited for them outside while the changed (not that either of them really noticed) and reentered the room when both were dressed.

Much to Dean's amazement and Sam's suspicion (he was almost to the point of saying christo here) their father tucked them in and kissed their foreheads.

"Sleep well," John whispered against his baby's forehead. He ran a hand through Sam's hair, and then left them to sleep.

It would take a lot of work to even partially erase what their father had done, but John was willing to do anything it took to make any version of his babies happy.

**Dean's thoughts during Sam's song are not precisely _my_ view of how Dean was acting, but we all know Dean has a tendency to blame himself for everything. So does Sam, actually. **

**We're almost done here! Only a couple more chapters till the end. Three, actually, unless I decide to add something more. **

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it!**


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